


Stop Hanging On

by thornfield_girl



Series: Bits and Pieces [4]
Category: Justified
Genre: Alternate Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 07:46:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3760252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornfield_girl/pseuds/thornfield_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an alternate ending to It Should Be Easier Now. http://archiveofourown.org/works/507090/chapters/89238</p><p>I never finished it, because it was too sad and too complicated, and I decided that I just wanted them to be happy for once, for god's sake. :) But I like this too, and I ended up using some of the stuff in it for other fics, so it might feel familiar at times. I hope you like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Winona was waiting for him when he got back from his poker game. She was sitting on the front steps of their house, sipping a glass of wine, illuminated by the porch light. She looked as lovely as he’d ever seen her look, and sadder than he could remember seeing. He sat down next to her and put his arm around her back. 

“Hey, baby,” he said, leaning over to look at her. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, Raylan. I do love you, you know?” She wasn’t meeting his eyes, staring out into the darkened front yard instead.

“Yeah, I know that. ‘Course I do.” He didn’t like the sound of this conversation at all. “I love you too.”

“I know. But I’m not very important to you, am I?”

“What? Of course you’re important to me. You’re my wife.”

“You know everything about me, Raylan. I’ve told you all the details of my life, probably way more than you cared to hear. But you... you haven’t really told me anything. You’re from Harlan, so there’s that. I’m a Kentucky girl, so I know what that means. You hate your father. Your mother’s dead. You have an aunt there. That’s it. You never told me anything about what you did there, what it was like. I barely know anything about you before the time you were in college.”

“That has nothing to do with you. I just don’t like to talk about it, Winona. I told you that.”

“Who’s Boyd?”

Raylan’s body jerked involuntarily when she said that, and he looked over at her sharply. “What?” 

“I was in the attic a few weeks ago, going through stuff to find out what we could get rid of before the move. I found this old box of books, and I was going through them to see if they were too dry-rotted to save. I picked up a copy of Catch-22 and this piece of paper fell out.”

Raylan was staring at his feet. He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t stand to see what expression might be on her face. 

“Well?” She said, “Aren’t you going to tell me, Raylan?”

“There’s nothing to tell. All that’s in the past, Winona. It doesn’t matter anymore.” 

She laughed, and he thought she sounded genuinely amused, though sad at the same time. “You’re seriously going to sit there and tell me that you have this tragic letter from some boy, hidden in a box of old books, and there’s nothing to tell. He said you hurt him."

Raylan just put his head down on his folded arms. He should have gotten rid of that letter a long time ago. The truth was, he’d sort of forgotten about it. Every time he moved, he’d always lug that box of books with him. He never unpacked them - hadn’t even looked inside after putting them in there the first time, when he’d left Missoula - but he’d never felt able to get rid of them. He didn’t even think of the letter when he looked at the box, only that the books had belonged to Boyd, and he didn’t feel right throwing them away. If he’d allowed himself to give it any real thought, he would have realized how pointless that was. He could have gotten rid of them at any time. 

“First, I thought, maybe he had feelings for you that you didn't return - of course you didn't, because you're not gay. But then he said, don't follow him home. Why would he think you'd do that, if that's how things were? He said that he was afraid something bad would happen to you if you did. And he said that he'd always -"

“I know what he said, Winona!” He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but hearing those words quoted back to him hurt more than he would have expected. He took a breath and reined in his temper. “I know what the letter said. Yes, he was in love with me. And I hurt him. He went back to Harlan after that, and I haven’t seen him since. I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”

“What did you do to hurt him?”

“How could that possibly matter, at this late date?”

She just stared at him, waiting. He knew why it mattered. He just didn’t want to tell her.

“That’s between me and him. I won’t talk about it.”

“Raylan... why have you never gone back to Harlan? It’s not just because you hate it, is it?”

He didn’t answer. This wasn't anything she needed to know, it never had been. It didn't change anything between them.

She waited him out, and he finally said, "Winona. I love you. This was all a long time ago. I'm not gay. Boyd was... my friend. I did love him. I was the one who fucked it up. I don't know why, or how, I fell in love with a man, but somehow I did. I don't think I ever could again."

"Have you ever been with any other men?"

"Once. Before I met you. I just wanted to see. It was okay. But I didn't want to date him or anything."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then said, "Thank you for being honest. I wish you'd done this a long time ago, Raylan, and without me finding out on my own first. Then maybe..."

She sounded like she was trying not to cry, and he wished he could stop the words that he knew were coming. 

Things had been rough between them for awhile, they'd been snapping at each other, arguing and then letting it slide without making up. Raylan had hoped things would get better after the move, that Miami would be a fresh start for them. He knew she loved him, and he loved her, so in his mind, things should work themselves out. He could see, now, that she felt differently. And then there was the letter. 

"Raylan, I can't be married to you anymore. I just can't. You don't let me in. You don't make  
me a priority, ever."

"Winona.. I'll try. I'm sorry I never told you about... that. It was just hard for me to talk about."

"I understand that. If it was just this, I'd get past it. But Raylan, it's like this with everything. Always. There's this wall around you."

"Can't we work on it?"

"Raylan... the day I found that letter, I slept with the Realtor who's listing our house."

"You _what_?" 

"I know. I’m sorry. It was wrong. I just... felt so alone.”

“Honey, I... okay. I get it. I can... we can fix this. We can-”

“Raylan, no. I don’t want to fix it. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I can’t do this anymore.” She stood up then and walked into the house. He went in after, then sat in the living room drinking for quite awhile before falling asleep on the couch. 

The living room got the morning light, and when the sun came up and woke him, Raylan got up and went into the bedroom. He woke Winona and fucked her silently, and neither of them looked at the other in the face. It was the saddest sex he’d ever had. When he was finished, he got up and took a shower, and when he came out, she was gone, along with two of the packed boxes from the bedroom.

 

He was supposed to leave for Miami in three days. The plan had been for Winona to stay behind and arrange all the details for the sale of their house, and for him to go ahead and get them set up in the apartment they’d found down there. He’d already had his last day of work at Glynco, and he’d been planning to finish up the last of the packing this week. He looked around at all the boxes, and packing tape, and bubble wrap scattered around the place, and he felt so tired. 

He grabbed a beer from the fridge and went outside. He’d never really liked this neighborhood very much, nor the house either. He couldn’t figure out what, precisely, was wrong with either of them. They just didn’t feel quite right. He’d never really felt happy here. 

Raylan finished his beer and went back inside. He couldn’t deal with packing anything just then, but he thought he could handle bringing the boxes down from the second floor and the attic. He emptied the guest room and the bedroom first, then pulled the ladder down from the attic - really just a crawl space where they put stuff they’d never use again.

He brought down a couple of lamps and a table with a broken leg that he'd always meant to fix. When he came back up the ladder, the first thing his eye landed on was an old box, the corners caved in, and the packing tape peeling up where it had been recently smoothed down.

He didn't go near it at first. He averted his eyes and moved to the other side of the space, pulling out some old suitcases that they never used anymore. Why had they kept all this shit? He was going to borrow a truck and make a run to the dump, because he was certainly not taking this junk along with him.

His gaze kept straying over to that old box, regardless of how much he grumbled to himself and tried to ignore it. Finally, he sighed and went over to it. He sat down and pulled open the box. The letter had been folded and laid on top of the books.

Raylan knew there was no reason to be afraid of this piece of paper. He already knew what it said, basically, at least. He unfolded it and read it, for the first time in 12 years. Boyd had been hurt too badly to stay. He was going home to make it up to his sociopathic shitkicker father. Don't come after him. But he loved Raylan "so much" and always would. 

He stared at the letter, and read it a few more times. He’d always felt terribly guilty about what he'd done. It hadn't occurred to him to think that Boyd had wronged him in any way, because he'd been so convinced of his own culpability. From this distance, though, he realized that he'd also felt betrayed. He hadn't indulged much in that feeling, but reading the letter brought it bubbling up in him.

Boyd had forgiven him. He had. They'd been happy out at Glacier that weekend. Even if there had been lingering hurt, how could he have just left without trying? He'd given up so easily, just let everything go without a backward glance. 

Raylan shook himself and crumpled up the letter. He threw it back into the box, and brought the whole thing downstairs to add to the pile of shit he’d be getting rid of the next day. He spent the rest of the day clearing everything out of there, then called a friend from work who owned a truck to make arrangements for the next afternoon. 

That night, he dragged himself to bed at around midnight. He felt exhausted, both mentally and physically, and thought he might actually be able to fall asleep. However, the second he laid his head on his pillow, his eyes flew wide open. He tossed and turned, and got annoyed with himself for not just staying on the sofa, where he’d been barely able to keep his eyes open in front of the television. 

He must have fallen asleep at some point, though it didn’t feel like it, because he suddenly started awake with a terrible feeling in his gut, that he’d made a fatal error. He couldn’t figure it out. He thought it must be about Winona, but there was no major mistake there, that he could think of. Their marriage had died the death of a thousand cuts - many of them of his doing, yes, but not all, not by far. She had been the one to deal the final blow, not him. 

His mind kept returning to that box. To that letter. But it made no sense. There was nothing in that letter that could save him, nothing but a dead sentiment from a man who’d given up on him a long time ago. Who _he_ had let go, long ago, as well. 

Raylan closed his eyes, but there was no possibility of returning to sleep. He knew that. 

He got up and walked downstairs, found the box and pried it open. He removed the balled up, brittle paper, smoothed it out and read it one more time. Then he brought it back to the bedroom with him, put it in the nightstand and fell asleep almost right away. 

Raylan worked through the next day as well, packing up the rest of the house and doing a little bit of cleaning. His friend came by after work and helped him load up the truck, then drove him out to the dump. He’d thrown the box of books out with barely a twinge, and he was almost able to laugh at himself for holding onto an entire box of old paperbacks for twelve years and several moves, just because he didn’t want to deal with one letter. 

When he got home, he looked around at all the boxes, and realized that he didn’t want to hold on to anything from this house. Not the furniture, not framed prints from the walls, not even a goddamn dish towel. He called to cancel the moving van that was reserved for the following day, then called Winona to tell her she could do what she liked with whatever was in the house. It was her problem now.

That night, he fell asleep easily, but woke up at around 4am and was unable to go back to sleep. He lay awake in bed for over an hour. The bad feeling from the night before had returned, but not so sharp this time. It felt more like a headache that was just starting, one you knew would only get worse. He remembered that it had gone away the night before when he’d saved Boyd’s letter, so he opened the night stand’s drawer and pulled it out. 

He didn’t bother to turn the light on to read it again, because he knew it by heart now. It wasn’t a very long letter. You hurt me, I’m going home, don’t come get me, I love you. It hadn’t made sense to him back then, and time had done nothing to improve it. 

That morning, Raylan called Dan Grant in Miami and told him what had happened with Winona. He said he could use a few extra days - a week, if possible - before starting at the new job. Dan was sympathetic, and said that was fine. 

He threw some clothes in a bag and started to lock up the house, then thought again and went back to pull some CDs off the shelf in the living room. He and Winona’s musical tastes didn’t overlap much, so he didn’t think she’d miss the ones he took, and he had a long drive ahead of him.

Raylan got into his car and headed for Harlan.


	2. Two

For the first few hours of the drive, Raylan was determinedly not giving much thought to what he was doing. It was as if the decision had been made by some remote corner of his brain, and it was reluctant to inform the rest of it. With good reason - this was not a choice that would stand up to much logical scrutiny. 

It wasn't until he stopped for a second cup of coffee, and was heading back to the car, that he stopped short. He actually murmured out loud to himself, "What the hell am I doing? This is crazy," before getting in and driving on. 

He was pretty sure there was nowhere he'd care to stay, in or around Harlan, so he drove to Lexington instead. His finances were a bit strained as it was, and with a divorce looming, they were looking to get worse. He found a shitty room in a grungy motel on the outskirts of town, checked in and sat down on the creaky bed.

As he sat there, he realized that he had no idea what he had come here to do. He knew he wanted to see Boyd, but not why. It seemed so late in the game, even unfair, to ask him the things he wanted to know. Why hadn't he fought harder? Why had he pretended that everything was fine, when he'd apparently still been in so much pain? How could he have left without saying goodbye? Maybe Boyd wouldn't even have an answer to give for the actions of his 21 year old self. 

If he wasn't going to ask him those things, then what the hell did he want? Maybe it would be enough just to see him. He missed him. He'd always missed him, if he was being honest. He'd left an empty space that Raylan had never managed to completely fill. He'd fallen in love again, but he'd never found another friend like that. Not even close.

He called Helen first because, short of driving around Harlan and asking questions, he had no idea how to find Boyd. And that seemed like an unwise course of action. Her reaction was unsurprising.

"Are you kidding me? Raylan Givens, I never took you for a damn fool, but now I ain't sure."

"Helen, I'm a Federal Marshal, and a grown fucking adult. You really telling me that I can't set foot in the place I come from, because of a threat made on me more than ten years ago, when I was a goddamn kid?"

"It's not just Bo. I'm not sure you know what you're walking back into, here. Twelve years is a long time, Raylan. People change."

Raylan grimaced, but it was no more than he'd expected. He'd known Boyd couldn't survive here without changing, becoming what was expected of him. 

"I'm just here to visit, not to fucking propose. I just want to catch up with an old friend. Do you know where I can find him or not?"

"You never did tell me what happened in Montana. Why it didn't work out."

"And I'm still not going to."

She sighed, and said, "Fine." She gave him Boyd's address and added, "But be careful, Raylan. He's got some bad people around him. Lots would say he's one of them."

 

Boyd was talking to one of his men in the front room, working out the details of a small-scale heist he was planning, when the car pulled up in the yard. It was a nondescript Chevy, a few years old, and Boyd watched as the driver stepped out. There was nothing nondescript about him.

Boyd immediately told Billy to get lost, and went outside to say hello.

He walked down the steps to meet him, amazed at how good he still looked. Better, even, if that was possible. Or maybe it was just that it had been so long.

He had meant to speak, to tell him how good he was looking, how happy Boyd was to see him, or to ask him what the hell he was doing there, but instead he just walked right up to him and embraced him. 

Raylan's arms wrapped around him easily, not holding him too tightly, but Boyd could feel all the muscle he'd put on since they'd last seen each other. 

He pulled away before too long, reluctantly, because he knew Billy was nosy as shit and probably watching from one of the windows. 

"It’s so good to see you, I can't tell you," Boyd said. "Come in and have a drink."

"All right," Raylan said, and his voice sounded just the same. 

Boyd pulled out a jar of moonshine and two glasses, poured and handed one to Raylan. He grinned at him real big - couldn't have stopped it even if he'd wanted to - held up his glass, and said, "Old friends."

Raylan's face had grown strained, and he was glancing around the room. Boyd winced inwardly - he knew that Raylan was a person who did not deal so firmly in the pragmatic as Boyd did. For the first time since he'd begun working with the Commandos, he could not only see what this looked like through someone else's eyes, but actually cared. 

"Raylan, listen. This is just-"

"Okay. It ain't my business. You do what you gotta do." His voice sounded tight, like he was holding something back, something big. Suddenly, Boyd felt like he needed to get them  
out of there. 

"You staying at Arlo's?" he asked, fairly sure what the answer would be.

"Fuck no. I got a room in Lexington. Thought I might not want to stick too close, in case... in case things went sideways." He was looking down at his drink, obviously not wanting to see anything else in the room, or Boyd himself.

"Let's go for a drive. It'll be easier to talk."

Raylan looked relieved, and said, "Sure, let's do that."

They took Boyd's truck, since he was much more familiar with the roads in and around that holler than Raylan was or ever had been. 

"Why did you come, Raylan?"

"Honestly... I don't really know, myself. My... Did you know I got married seven years ago?"

"Helen told me. Showed me a picture - she's real pretty."

"She just left me."

"Oh. I see. I'm sorry. Did you know it was coming?"

"I had more warning than you gave me, if that's what you're asking."

Boyd blinked, and opened his mouth to form some kind of response, but Raylan held up a hand and said, "Boyd, I'm sorry. I didn't come here to do that. I only wanted to see you. I was thinking about you a lot, that's all."

"I think about you too, Raylan."

Raylan sighed heavily, and didn't answer. Boyd understood, and he drove on quietly for awhile.

He parked on the side of the road, grabbed the jar he'd brought along and got out. Raylan followed him a little warily. "What's this place?" he asked.

"Just a trail I know about. It's a good place to walk, come on." Boyd had been very careful to pick one without any memories attached. He'd only found this one a few years back. 

They walked on a ways, and eventually came to a small clearing. They found a fallen tree to lean up against and sat down. Boyd opened the shine and passed it to Raylan. They drank in silence for several minutes, then Boyd spoke.

"What was it made you think about me? Just her leaving? Or something else?"

"Well... Winona - that's my wife - found your note in a box of your old books. She was a little freaked out by it, I think. She asked me about it."

"You kept that note?"

Raylan gave a soft, sort of embarrassed laugh and said, "Yeah. And all your books. I hope you don't want 'em back, though, because I finally threw them out."

"Why'd you keep it? Didn't it... hurt to be reminded?"

"Tell you the truth, I stuck it in a book and didn't look at it again until after she found it. But I didn't need that to be reminded, Boyd. I didn't need that to feel hurt. Everything in our apartment was a reminder. Everything..." Raylan stopped talking and shook his head. 

"I'm so sorry." Boyd felt like he could keep saying that all night and it would never be enough, for either of them.

Raylan drank some more from the jar, a long pull, then blew out a hard breath. 

"I don't know what I'm looking for here. I don't know what I thought you could do for me. I guess I'm looking for answers, and maybe there are none. I think... I think something's wrong with me. There's something about me that just drives people away. They can't get enough of me at first, but after awhile, I just ruin it. What is it, Boyd? Can you tell me?"

Boyd was staring at him, horrified. The sun had mostly set, and it was very dark in the trees, but he could just make out the hopeless expression on Raylan's face. 

"Raylan, no. It's not... there's nothing wrong with you. You're... things just happen sometimes, things get fucked up and it's both people's fault, and by the end it's impossible to untangle. It's not you."

"Well, if that's how it was with me and you, then I must have been pretty goddamn clueless. Because I was so happy. And I swear, I thought you were too. Even after... I mean, shit, I know I fucked up. But that... you knew that was nothing." Raylan was staring back at him now, with that little frown he always got when he was figuring someone out. 

Boyd needed to stop this line of thought. Raylan didn't need to know this now. There was no point. "Raylan -"

"You _were_ happy. I know you were. You loved me. You said you weren't going anywhere. That we could do whatever we wanted. You fucking told me to wake you up when I got home. And then you were just _gone._ Why would you do that?"

"Raylan, I know, please, I'm -"

"You wouldn't have. Not over that. Not without telling me to my face. That wasn't who you were. Jesus Christ, Boyd. What happened?"

"Oh, Raylan. Just leave this alone. Please."

"Tell me, goddamn it," he said through clenched teeth.

Boyd rubbed at his face. If he wanted Raylan to believe the lie, he was going to have to tell it all over again. He didn't think he could do that. He closed his eyes and spoke quickly. "It was Daddy. And Bowman. They came to get me at the lumberyard. They said..."

"I can guess what they said." Raylan's face was in his hands and he was speaking very quietly. "I'm sure they threatened me, right? Because I know you weren't scared for yourself. You never were."

"I didn't know what else to do."

Raylan groaned as if he were in pain. "I would have waited for you if I'd known. I would have done whatever I needed to."

"I didn't..." 

Boyd could see it from Raylan's current perspective, and he didn't blame him for thinking that way. If he was hearing about this for the first time, now, he'd say the same thing. He'd be angry. He was angry, actually. At his father, but as much with himself. He'd had on blinders of fear, couldn't think of anything but what he'd do if Raylan got himself killed over him.

"Raylan, what do you think you would have done if I'd left you a note saying that I was being forced to come back here, but not to do anything? If I'd said, 'I'll figure it out, don't come, let me work it out?'"

Raylan looked up at him sharply. "But you didn’t fucking figure it out, did you? You just stayed here. You accepted it. You turned into... exactly what I knew you would, when you came back here. What difference does it even make why you ended up in this place?”

“I never said it did, Raylan. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”

Raylan looked at him with wide eyes, and it was too dark to tell if it was anger or just pain in them. "Do you have any idea what that was like for me?"

" _Yes_. I believe I do. We both lost something big, Raylan. I've never found it again. I thought maybe you had, though. That's why I left it alone. I always thought about that letter you sent me. I was in the army when I got that, you know, stationed in Kuwait."

Raylan nodded. "Helen told me."

"That letter, Raylan, it nearly finished me. I wanted to do murder. I wanted to kill them for what they took from us. I always remembered what you said, that I shouldn't ever think it was too late. But then, when I heard you got married, I knew it was. I didn't want to mess up your life anymore. I hoped you were happy. You believe that?"

"Yeah."

"Were you?" 

Raylan lifted his shoulders in a tired shrug. "For a time," he said. 

"Well... that's something."

He shook his head. "Not enough."

Boyd didn't know what to say to that, but he knew it was true. How could that be enough? He remembered how it had felt. And Raylan was here now - after all this time, he'd come back here looking for something. Answers, or so he'd said, and he'd gotten that. Boyd wasn't sure what else he might accept, but he wanted very badly to offer. 

They weren't sitting very far apart. It was nothing for him to reach out and touch Raylan on the shoulder. Maybe he'd take comfort, if nothing else. Raylan drew in a breath, and reached across his body to put his hand on top of Boyd's. They sat like that for a long time, not talking. 

Finally, Raylan said, "I should have figured this out years ago. I never should have believed it in the first place. I knew you better than that."

Boyd turned his hand over and clasped Raylan's. He held it in both of his hands and said, "It was your guilt. I used that. I knew I had to, or you'd see through it. I did that, Raylan. I made you believe. I'm sorry."

"I kept thinking you might come back. I thought you'd miss me too much. I thought you'd miss our life too much." 

"God, I missed it so much. It was almost unbearable."

Raylan pulled his hand free, gently, and stood up. "We should head back, I guess."

Boyd got up too and said, "That's fine." They walked back to the truck, and Boyd drove back to his house. When he pulled up next to Raylan’s car, he said, “Are you going to be around for awhile?”

“Few days,” Raylan answered. “I’d like to see you again, but I can’t be in there. I just can’t.”

Boyd nodded immediately. “Okay. I get it. I don’t really want you in there, anyway.”

“You can come see me in Lexington, if you want.” Raylan gave a half-smile. “I’ll buy you dinner.” 

 

Raylan wasn’t thinking about anything as he drove back to Lexington. He put on Buck Owens, turned it up loud and sang along. He pushed everything else out. It wasn’t until he’d gotten into his room, undressed and laid down in bed that it all came crashing down on him. 

He had no idea what to do with this information. It changed everything, and nothing. What he'd lost, was still lost. The only difference was that he now knew it had been wrenched from him, rather than him throwing it away carelessly. Maybe that mattered, and in time it would make things better, but right now it was hard to take. It was hard to think of anything but how things could have been different, if he'd only known the score. 

When Boyd had touched him, he'd briefly felt something like relief, like a resolution. And then he'd felt the urge to turn to him, to push him down and take what should have been his. That was when he'd stood up to go. That was no kind of solution to anything, having sex in the woods with this person, who was virtually a stranger to him now, this man who had a giant fucking swastika hanging in his living room. 

Yet he hadn't seemed like a stranger, hadn't felt unfamiliar when they'd been sitting together under the trees, drinking. That had just been Boyd, the boy he'd loved. The hand on his shoulder hadn't felt much different from the one he'd felt in Boyd's truck, parked in Helen's yard, all that time ago. A little stronger, maybe. A little harder.

In any case, he’d see him again. That was why he was here, he supposed. To see Boyd, to get a fucking grip on what had happened to his life. That experience had done something to him, he had no doubt. The way he’d grown up, it seemed sort of amazing he’d been able to place the amount of trust in Boyd that he had. He’d laid all of his doubts aside to be with him, and Boyd had failed him. He’d been cut loose without warning, left to his own devices, and it was no surprise to him that he’d never been willing to give over that much of himself again. 

Only now, he understood that Boyd had done the only thing he knew to do, to protect him. It must have taken a huge amount of strength and will to keep from running back, to keep from calling and telling him, even to keep from killing his father, because he had been as happy as Raylan had. Despite the inauspicious beginnings, the bad odds, the warnings Helen had laid on Boyd before they left, it had been working. Maybe it would have been different after another year, or five years - there was no way of knowing, but they should have had the opportunity to find out.

Boyd knocked on his door at a little past six the next evening. He'd dressed up, a little, had on a black button-down and dark jeans, and Raylan couldn't help smiling. He'd always loved the way Boyd looked. He didn't look like anyone else. 

"You want to come in for a drink first before we go eat?" Raylan held the door open wider, and Boyd nodded and walked in. 

They sat down at the little table by the window, where Raylan had set a bottle and some plastic cups. 

"This is a classy set-up, Raylan." Boyd was looking at him with a grin lurking just below the surface. 

"Sorry, I neglected to bring my wall hangings. You know how they can perk a place up."

Boyd narrowed his eyes a little like he was trying to get a read on him. Raylan looked at him coolly for a few seconds before smiling just a little. He didn't want Boyd to think he hated him, but neither did he want him to think he was fine with all that. He wasn't, not even a little bit.

Raylan wasn't sure how to talk to him, how to deal with playing catch up, when there were so many things he didn't want to know about. He sipped at his drink, and finally said, "So, any big scandals happen while I've been gone? Any good gossip?"

"Hmmm. Not much to speak of, unless you count you and me. Seems not everyone believed my daddy's version of things."

"You don't say," he said, smirking. "That make things hard on you?" 

"Nobody says nothing to my face. First 'cause they were scared of Bo, now they're scared of me."

Raylan nodded, not wanting to go any further along this road. Boyd wasn't quite finished talking, though.

"Occasionally I've gotten these insane urges, when I think someone's looking at me, wondering if it's true, to just tell them. I always think, 'what's the worst that could happen?'"

"I think you know what the worst thing is."

"I'm not so sure. Time was, the worst thing I could think of was you getting killed. Now, I guess you can take care of yourself. Hell, you're a lawman, you put yourself in harm's way all the time. Nothing I could do to keep you safe even if I were so inclined."

Raylan didn't really have an answer to that, so he just drank some more and they watched each other. Boyd wasn't trying to hide it, so Raylan didn't bother either.

When they were finished drinking, Raylan raised his eyebrows and asked if Boyd wanted to go eat. Boyd looked at him steadily and said, "Did you really come all the way to Kentucky to have dinner with me and chat about shit you don't want to hear, and I don't want to talk about? You got your answers, Raylan. You know what happened all that long time ago, and yeah, it's sad as shit. It's fucking terrible, and it haunts me, but it's done and gone. So what are you still hanging around for?"

"If you didn't want to come here, you should have stayed in Harlan. You're free to leave. No one's holding a goddamn gun to your head."

"I didn't say that. I want to be here, but I ain't lying to myself about why."

Raylan stared at him. Boyd looked calm, but his eyes were intense. "What do you think that's going to accomplish?" Raylan asked.

"I ain't looking to accomplish a goddamn thing, Raylan. I just want your hands on me, like I haven't wanted anything for a very long fucking time. I know I can't get back what I lost. I can't give you back what you lost. But...we could give each other something."

"Blow jobs?" Raylan said, sardonically.

"For starters," Boyd said, smiling. 

"I don't know, Boyd."

"All right. Well, let's go eat, then. I'll tell you all about the army, bore the shit out of you. Then you can tell me about playing Wyatt Earp."

They went out, and Boyd did tell him about his time in the war, but Raylan wasn't bored at all.  
Boyd was a skilled speaker who had a great ability to figure out just what his audience would want to hear about. He laughed at some  
of the stories, even though there was a pervasive sadness to all of them, due to the circumstances of his enlistment. 

Raylan wasn't nearly as good at storytelling, but Boyd asked him questions, and he eventually remembered all sorts of anecdotes he thought he'd forgotten about. They had walked to dinner, so they had several drinks over the meal, and were both a bit unsteady on their feet on the way back to the motel. 

"I guess you ain't driving home, are you, Boyd?" Raylan wasn't quite slurring, but he could feel it coming.

"I believe that as an officer of the law, you would be negligent in your duties to allow me behind the wheel of a vehicle at this level of intoxication." Boyd managed to get almost all of that out clearly, until the last word, which he mangled completely. He and Raylan looked at each other and burst out laughing. 

They reached the room, and Raylan fumbled around for his keys. 

"You did this on purpose, didn't you?" he said softly, without malice. He knew it was true, and he couldn't quite bring himself to mind. 

Boyd took the keys from his hand and pushed forward gently, crowding him against the door but not forcing him, not doing anything he couldn't easily put a stop to. He kept going until their faces were inches apart, and Boyd had his hands on the door frame, on either side of Raylan's waist. Their bodies touched lightly. 

"If you want, I can go get my own room. I won't do this unless you choose it. I don't want it unless you do, do you understand?"

Raylan sighed, but didn't answer right away. He looked at Boyd and saw the boy inside the man, and he couldn't stop himself from pushing forward and kissing him. It felt perfect. It felt fucking beautiful, if he was being honest. 

When the kiss ended, Boyd didn't pull back. He leaned into Raylan and put his head on his shoulder. The gesture was so tender, so familiar, that Raylan couldn't help responding to it. He closed his eyes and put his arm around Boyd. 

"Come on," he whispered, after a minute. "Let's go in."

Boyd handed him the keys and they went inside. They stumbled to the bed and Boyd sat down, pulling Raylan on top of him as he lay back. Raylan gazed down at him, trying to focus through the spins he was experiencing. "Boyd," he mumbled.

"Yeah, Raylan ?"

"I think this little plan might have backfired on you. I don't think I can manage much of anything. I feel like I'm gonna pass out."

Boyd gave him a giddy grin and said, "Let's just get our clothes off and see what happens."

"All right." Raylan was well past any objections he might have had. He lay back on the bed and started unbuttoning his shirt with limited success. He thought, if Boyd could figure out a way to make this happen, he could go along with it.

He felt Boyd fumbling with his belt buckle, and he grinned up at the ceiling. His pants were being pulled down his legs, but he still had his boots on, and Boyd laughed when he realized. Raylan cackled at that and reached down for Boyd's hand. 

"Come up here, asshole." Boyd laid down next to him. Raylan rolled over and put his arm across his chest, resting his head on Boyd's shoulder. "I can't believe I'm here with you."

I wish we'd-"

"Don't do that. No point wishing."

"You're right. So get up off me and take off your own damn pants. I want you, Raylan. I don't give a shit how drunk you are."

"I'll give it a try."

"Do or do not, Raylan. There is no fucking try."

Raylan cracked up again. Boyd made an excellent Yoda, he thought, as he struggled to get his boots and jeans off. 

Finally, they were both naked, and Boyd rolled over onto Raylan. Raylan grinned up at him and said, "Well, look who's in charge now."

Boyd laughed softly and said, "Shut up. You only ever got to take control because I let you."

Raylan looked at him seriously for a second and said, "Yeah. I know that."

Boyd kissed him, deep and slow, and wrapped his fingers around Raylan's cock. He trailed his lips down the side of his neck, and Raylan let out a shuddering breath, as if he'd been holding it all night. Or for years. 

Boyd was talking in his ear, and stroking his dick, and Raylan could hardly bear it. He was saying, "This is all I've wanted for so long. Missed you so much." Raylan reached for his face and kissed him again to make him stop talking. 

He couldn't believe how exciting it felt, what they were doing, even though they were both drunk and clumsy, and even though he was still feeling conflicted about the whole thing.

It wasn't like Raylan had suffered from a lack of sex during the past twelve years. As soon as he'd left Montana for Mississippi, he'd taken every willing girl he could find into his bed, and as it turned out, that was quite a few. 

He remembered thinking, rather bitterly, that he'd fucked things up with Boyd for less than no reason, because suddenly he wanted nothing more than to fuck women, all the time. 

Boyd was moving down his body, planting sloppy kisses on his chest and his thighs, and  
oh god, sliding his mouth over Raylan's dick, and it felt so goddamn good. He let out a grunt of pleasure, and he felt Boyd's lips briefly pull back into a grin before closing on him again.

Boyd's hands didn't stop moving once, roaming across Raylan's body like they were searching for something. Raylan bucked his hips up, and Boyd slid his hands under, pulling him up, taking him all the way in.

Raylan managed to get out, "Boyd," just before he came, Boyd's fingers digging into his flesh and his hair brushing his abdomen. "Fuck..." he breathed, as Boyd came back to him. "Boyd," he said again, and kissed him softly. 

Raylan reached for him, and touched him, and it felt so strange. It felt like it could have been yesterday they'd last done this, or it could have been another lifetime. 

Boyd was looking at him with an expression that Raylan could not interpret at all, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He kissed him again, and Boyd gave a muffled groan against his lips. Raylan hoped it was only of pleasure, but he thought it could just as easily be some kind of pain. He understood that.

He started to slide down, intending to give Boyd his due, even though it had been so long that he could only hope to be competent, at best, but Boyd's arms came around him and kept him there. 

Raylan looked at his face, and that same expression was there. He still didn't want to ask, but when he moved to kiss him, Boyd put a hand to his face to stop him. Raylan kept stroking him though, and watched as his face softened with pleasure. His eyes seemed to darken, and never left Raylan's face. 

Boyd was silent as Raylan felt his orgasm coming, felt him swell in his hand, felt the come spill over his fist, and then he let Raylan kiss him. Raylan understood the look on his face then, because he could feel the dampness on his cheeks and taste the salt of his tears. He wasn't too surprised.

Neither of them moved for quite some time. Boyd's hold loosened a bit, but he kept his arms around Raylan. Raylan didn't mind. No one else he'd ever been with had been able to hold him like that. 

Raylan had begun to doze when Boyd eased his arms off of him, and he opened his eyes. Boyd gave him a slight smile and said, "I'm just gonna go clean up. I'll be right back."

Raylan nodded and watched him walk off to the bathroom. "Can you get me a washcloth?" he called, and he heard running water before Boyd came back out and tossed him a damp cloth. 

The whole routine was so bizarrely domestic and familiar that Raylan felt his head start spinning again. He reminded himself, like it was a mantra: This was Kentucky, not Montana, and they were most definitely not kids anymore. Neither of them was the person he'd been when they started out together. This couldn't go anywhere. Raylan was just here to get some shit figured out. 

It could not be denied that were some issues with this. This, tonight, had almost certainly been a mistake. One that had felt good, but still a mistake. It confused things. As if it hadn't been confusing enough, with finding out what he had. 

Boyd came back, slid into bed and reached for Raylan again. Raylan stiffened slightly and held him at a little distance.

He frowned and said, "What's wrong, Raylan? Suddenly you don't want me to touch you?"

"It ain't that," he said. "I just don't think it's a good idea. I don't think we should get too attached, you know what I'm saying?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" Boyd's voice was even, but it had a dangerous  
edge to it. "Don't get too attached, like naming a pig before it goes to slaughter?"

"Boyd -"

"No, you listen to me, Raylan Givens. If you're afraid of getting fucking 'attached,' you say that. Don't you speak for me. Ain't no getting attached, for me. I already love you, Raylan. I never stopped. You let me go, I get that. You didn't know. You thought I left you by choice. I wanted you to move on, so I surely can't complain that you did. But I never did. Not really. I tried, but I couldn't. I must have fucked a hundred people, maybe more. Boys and girls. Not once did I want to see any of them more than a couple times."

Raylan was staring at him, dismayed. "Boyd, I didn't know. I should never have -"

"Do not say that, Raylan. You think I don't know my own mind?"

Raylan held up his hands defensively and said, "Shit, no. Of course I don't think that."

"Then how about you let me worry about my own tender feelings."

"Yeah, okay. It ain't like my own are so damn hard right now, you know. It's been the most fucked up week I've had in quite a long time."

"I know. Just come here, Raylan. Stop worrying so much."

Raylan looked at the man next to him, who lived a life full of hatred and crime, yet had somehow held onto a love he'd started as a teenaged boy. It was hard to imagine how he'd kept it safe inside of him all that time. He must have guarded it carefully. It was a terrible thought.

Raylan moved closer and pulled him in, and they went to sleep.


	3. Three

Boyd got on the road back to Harlan pretty early. He was supposed to meet Bo and some out of town associates at Bowman's house, and Ava was putting out a spread for them. He really wasn't sure how he was going to handle it. 

Raylan was heading on to Miami in another day or two, and Boyd wanted to see him again before he left. He'd told him so, and to his relief, Raylan hadn't asked him what the point was. 

There was no point but the joy of the thing itself, and Boyd had understood that from the minute he'd seen Raylan step out of his car. All he'd wanted from that moment was to get close, and stay close for as long as he could. He'd had no illusions that it would be very long at all.

Boyd said he'd be back in Lexington at 8 that night, and Raylan had only said, "All right. See you then," and he'd hesitated awkwardly for a few seconds before kissing him goodbye. Good lord, this whole thing was strange. 

He arrived home to find Johnny Crowder's truck parked in front of his place. He couldn't think of any reason why his cousin would be here, and it set his nerves on edge. He didn't like surprises, except on the exceedingly rare occasion they involved Raylan Givens stepping out of the past and into his front yard. 

He banged on the driver's side window as he walked past, startling Johnny, who had fallen asleep in his seat. Johnny got out and said, "Where the fuck you been, Boyd?" in a much unfriendlier voice than Boyd usually heard from him.

"Out getting laid, what's it to you?" he answered in a similar tone. 

"Is that right? Well, that's real interesting, seeing as how I heard Raylan Givens was here just the other day."

Boyd didn't answer right away, and was careful to keep a neutral expression on his face. As far as he knew, his man Billy didn't know Raylan, and he had been the only one who'd seen him, unless Raylan had been so careless as to stop somewhere else in Harlan before coming here. It seemed unlikely, as he didn't remember Raylan being a complete fucking idiot.

"Raylan Givens? Where'd you hear that shit? I'm quite sure I'd remember that."

"Boyd, listen here. We known each other a long time. Don't treat me like I'm fucking retarded. Billy was down at the bar drinking and mentioned that you chased his ass off when some tall, cop-looking pretty boy showed up here, and that you hugged him like your goddamn long-lost brother. Only, I'm guessing it wasn't brotherly love you were showing him."

Boyd was at a rare loss for words. Johnny had never mentioned Raylan to him before, although he'd always assumed he knew, or had guessed. What he didn't know was why Johnny was coming to him about it now. 

Well, he figured, there was nothing for it but to ask. "What do you want, Johnny?"

"I'm just here to let you know, is all. I don't know what he's doing back here, but you oughtta tell him to keep his distance. I doubt he wants to get you killed."

Boyd watched him with narrowed eyes, then thought maybe he was telling the truth. Not that he wouldn't use the information if he had to, of course. It was the most valuable currency in their line of work, and Boyd would most certainly do the same.

"I appreciate it, Johnny," he said. "Let me know if I can return the favor."

"Yeah, sure. Next time one of my old boyfriends comes rolling into town I'll let you know. Jesus Christ, Boyd. That's fucking disgusting, you know that, right?" 

Boyd wanted to laugh at his expression, which was a perfect balance of horror, hilarity and fascination. It could surely be worse, he knew that, and he didn't take offense. 

"Shit, Johnny. Raylan's a hell of a lot prettier than that pig you were seeing right about the time we left town. I remember him saying she made the rounds of the whole baseball team before she got to you."

"Yeah. Wish I could tell you he passed that shit up, cousin."

Boyd laughed and said, "I gotta get ready for this thing with Daddy and some people in from Miami today." 

"Yeah, all right. Stop in later if you want."

"Well..." A ridiculous lopsided grin appeared on his face, unbidden and unstoppable. "I seem to be all booked up for this evening, but maybe tomorrow."

"Jesus," Johnny muttered again, shaking his head. "Whatever, man. I just don't want to fucking hear about it."

While he showered, Boyd allowed himself to think about Raylan some more, but as soon as he was finished, he started working on getting himself in the right frame of mind for this meeting, in particular, dealing with Bo Crowder. He had to keep all of these recently unearthed feelings under tight wraps, or things could get very fucking dangerous.

Ava was frying up some chicken when Boyd arrived, entering through the kitchen door. She glanced up at him when he came in, and he gave her a faint smile.

"Hey Boyd," she said, distracted. "Bowman and your daddy are in the dining room already, waiting on them Miami people."

"All right," he said softly. "I'll go on in then."

She looked at him sharply and said, "You okay, Boyd?"

"I'm all right. Why?" He thought he should ask, because whatever it was she'd noticed, he needed to knock it the fuck off.

"I don't know. You just seem a little off. Quiet. Something." She shrugged. "Don't mind me."

"Thanks for asking anyway, honey."

She frowned at him, and he scowled. He knew he was acting weird. 

He walked into the dining room, nodded to Bo and Bowman, and sat down. His daddy filled him in on the details of the meeting. These people were basically some shitkickers with a little bit of pull in their piece of the Florida boonies, who Bo had engaged when he'd first started dealing with Gio Reyes in Miami. He'd felt better having men who looked and sounded like himself acting as his eyes and ears down there. 

He was extending their responsibilities with a job he needed handled discreetly, as it would technically be horning in on Gio's turf, and Bo was disinclined to share when this was his deal.

They arrived shortly after, a man in his forties and two young guys, one of whom had sleeve tats on both arms, and Boyd could see them creeping up his neck from under his shirt. Boyd had a little bit of prison ink, but he hadn't been particularly inclined to make a big statement on his skin as of yet. He knew he'd have to soon, if he wanted his men to think he was committed to the cause, but he'd been holding out. 

Now, he felt like everything was up in the air. Raylan reappearance in his life might change things, or it might not. But he wasn't putting anything ugly and permanent on himself until he knew one way or the other.

 

It was only a few minutes after Boyd had left that Raylan's phone started buzzing. The first call was from Winona, double-checking that he really wanted to get rid of everything, including his old sports equipment in the basement. 

He hadn't gotten much use out of that stuff in years, and had mostly been saving it in case they had a kid someday. He asked her if she'd mail his baseball glove, more for sentimental reasons than anything else. That, and it was so nicely broken in that he'd never have another one that fit so well. 

"How's Miami?" she asked. She sounded like she didn't want to hang up. 

"Well... tell you the truth, I'm not there yet. I felt like I needed a little time, after...everything. I'm heading there tomorrow."

"But you're not staying at the house, are you? It doesn't look like you are."

"No, I decided to take a little vacation. Visit family." He winced, knowing she knew very well he didn't want to visit any family.

She let a few seconds go by, then said in a hushed, disbelieving voice, "Are you in Harlan?"

"Well, no... Lexington at the moment."

"Did you go to see... your friend? Boyd." She sounded as uncomfortable as he'd ever heard her sound, and that was saying something. It was almost cute, and it made him smile. 

"I did. Seemed like it was time. I guess I have you to thank for that."

"Oh. Well... was it... nice? To see him?"

"I'm not sure if 'nice' is the word I'd use, but I'm glad I went."

"Raylan-"

"I don't much feel like talking to you about it, Winona. Maybe some day. A very, very long time from now."

"Oh! So... All right. Sure. Well, then..."

He had just ended the call when another one came in, this one from Helen. 

"You find what you were looking for, Raylan?" She sounded half-pissed off as usual.

"I found Boyd, if that's what you're asking. Thanks for your help." 

"You okay?" she asked, grudgingly.

"I'm fine, Helen. I don't know what you're so worried about. I'm a big boy. I can look after myself."

"I know, you're a big federal lawman now. But I bet you're still shit at protecting your own heart. There are some dangers, can't be outdrawn."

"I'm fine."

"What about him? He never settled down with no one. He got himself quite a reputation as a pussy hound for a time, but of course it never did stop the whispers."

"You're suddenly so concerned for Boyd Crowder's well-being?"

Helen was quiet for a few seconds, and then she sighed. "Raylan, I remember that boy. I know he had something in him that was very good. I could see it in how he cared for you. I never wished him any harm. But you know as well as me, he couldn't stay that way and be a Crowder in Harlan. He had to let the other shit out, and I believe it may have killed the Boyd Crowder you knew."

Raylan sighed heavily. "I don't think so. Which is too bad for him, really, because he'd probably be happier without it."

"Be careful, Raylan. Be goddamn careful."

"Sure, Helen."

He didn't quite know what to do with himself for the rest of the day, so he went to a movie, and to lunch, then bought a paperback and headed back to the hotel to wait for Boyd.

The lunch with the Florida people went smoothly, and they were suitably impressed with both Bo's plans and Ava's fine southern cooking. After a rocky start, including one sharp-eyed glance from Bo, Boyd found his footing. He made them laugh, and made them feel like big men, and by the end of lunch, they were extending invitations to come to Florida so they could show him a real party. They had plenty to say about the quality of Florida pussy, and Boyd said he just might come and sample it, some time. 

He left Bowman's house all keyed up, feeling like a stranger to himself. He always felt this way after he'd been putting it on like that, but usually it felt just fine to him. He'd go out and have a couple drinks and fuck someone, and he'd get off on his own power and skill. 

He couldn't do it that way with Raylan. He knew he couldn't be with him, feeling the way he did. Raylan wouldn't even recognize him this way. Raylan might hate him; hell, he might hate Raylan a little bit, in this state. He didn't entirely know who he was just then.

He drove out to Johnny's dive, which was not too busy this early on a Thursday. It was just after five, and he figured he could have maybe two drinks and unwind, then he'd be okay to get to Lexington on time. 

He slid onto a barstool and caught Johnny's eye. His cousin put down the glass he was drying and brought a double bourbon over without having to be told.

"Change of plans, cousin?" He raised his eyebrows in mild curiosity. 

Boyd gave him a dark look and said, "Not as such. I just find myself in need of a drink sooner rather than later."

"That meeting go wrong or something?"

"Went just fine. Still need a fucking drink, okay?" 

"Okay, man, okay." Johnny poured a drink for himself and leaned against the bar. "That girl you were fucking for a little bit, what's her name...Denise. She's over there by the pool table, looking like she's thinking of coming over here. She was in here last week too, asking after you."

"Yeah? Next time, tell her I don't do repeats." Boyd scowled down at his drink, and when he looked back up, Johnny was smirking at him. "What?" he said in a hostile voice.

"Uh... only, that ain't strictly true, is it?"

Boyd glared at him and pushed his empty glass forward for a refill. He had two more over the next two hours or so, and took his mood out on Johnny, who had done nothing to deserve it. 

 

It was nearly ten when the knock finally came  
at Raylan's door. He was already annoyed before he opened it, on edge due to the stress of ignoring the twinge of fear he'd felt that someone might have found out and hurt Boyd, and halfway to drunk from the bottle he'd started working on an hour earlier. 

When he saw Boyd standing in the doorway, obviously several drinks in, himself, and with a scowl on his face, all of those things converted to anger. 

"You get held up or something?" he said, trying to keep the glare off his face. 

"You know, Raylan, it ain't like you called ahead to make plans for this week. You show up on my doorstep and expect me to just drop everything, which I have obviously been happy to do, but maybe you need to cut me a little goddamn slack about being late."

Raylan stood aside, and Boyd walked in, pouring himself a cup of Jack without asking, and sat down in a chair. Raylan followed him in and sat down in the one opposite him.

"I didn't expect anything, Boyd. You fucking said you wanted to come back up here. You said eight. It's ten. I been waiting around, that's all." Now Raylan was glaring. He didn't understand where this belligerent attitude was coming from all of a sudden, but he wasn't going to apologize. Boyd was the one who was two hours late.

"Oh, well, I'm real sorry you had to wait two whole fucking hours. That must have been quite a hardship."

Raylan's eyes narrowed at that, and his forehead creased in a little frown. He spoke slowly and softly, and said, "Just what in the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Boyd was looking down into his drink, and shook his head. "Forget it."

"You know I won't. What did you mean, Boyd? Let's hear it, come on."

Boyd was quiet for awhile, and Raylan could tell he was wrestling with something. Finally, he spoke, still looking down into his glass. "Why didn't you follow me here?"

" _What?_ " Raylan stared at him in disbelief. "You told me not to, Boyd. I wrote you a letter you never answered. What else was I supposed to do?"

"I really thought you'd still come. I was preparing for it. I thought you were too stubborn to give up on something so important, so easily, and when you didn't... well, I figured I'd been wrong about how much it meant to you."

Raylan stood up and stalked over to the other side of the room. He couldn't sit still, and he had an urge to hit Boyd, which he was trying to resist. He could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"That is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard. You gave me no information, nothing to hold onto, you basically told me it would destroy you if your daddy harmed me, and now I'm the one at fault here? Fuck you, asshole. I _trusted_ you. I did what you said was best. That's always what I did with you, don't you remember that?"

Boyd stood up and walked over to him, too close. Raylan's hands balled into fists, and he looked away.

"I went back to Harlan so you could live your life. You could do anything you wanted. Now out of the damn blue, you come see me, because you're sad and lonely, I guess, and suddenly I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore. I don't know how to be, with you or anyone else. I don't fit anywhere."

Raylan felt a stab of guilt, but that just pissed him off even more. It wasn't his fucking fault. Boyd was the one who had pushed things. He looked back at Boyd's face again and said, "Well, you won't have to worry about that for long, seeing as how I'm leaving tomorrow. Maybe you should just go now."

Boyd seemed to deflate a little, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Do you think I should? If you want me to go, I will, but I won't make that decision again. I can't carry it any longer, Raylan. I know it wasn't your fault. It was mine. My biggest mistake."

Raylan rubbed a hand across his tired brow, then reached out - only a little hesitantly - to squeeze Boyd's shoulder. "It wasn't." Boyd looked at him, and he shook his head. "Not your fault. Not mine either. Probably you should go, but I don't want you to. Will you stay?"

Boyd let out a small breath like he was relieved, and he managed a small smile for Raylan. "Yeah, I'll stay. Like you thought I could say no." He reached out for Raylan with both hands and pulled him close. He kissed him, tongue sliding in just a little, and nipping at his bottom lip. "You want to fuck?"

"Seems like a high effort endeavor at this point. How 'bout I just suck you off?"

"You ever catch me saying no to that, call the fuckin' state, Raylan."

Raylan gave a wolfish grin and pushed Boyd down on the bed, giving him no time to settle before climbing up on top and grinding into him. He kissed him without much gentleness, but with a great deal of feeling. 

Raylan rolled off, and they shucked their clothes quickly. Boyd was already hard, and Raylan suddenly felt like he couldn't wait to suck his dick. Like it was what he'd been waiting for all night. He figured Boyd might like to hear that, so he told him, and grinned again when he heard him suck up a breath like he'd touched a hot stove. 

They took turns making each other come. Raylan was happy to find that his concerns about being out of practice were overblown; it seemed to be along the lines of riding a bike, and a familiar one at that. 

After, they lay side by side in the dark and asked each other about some of the things they'd been avoiding. Boyd talked a bit about what it was like living in Harlan, and working for Bo. He spoke in generalities, of course, but Raylan got enough of the picture to let him know he couldn't ask anything more. It was a bleak picture, though, and it made him feel stupid for thinking he'd been through anything too tough. 

Raylan talked about Winona, about the good and the bad of their marriage, and also the time before it. Boyd asked him to tell what it had been like, after he'd left. Raylan couldn't understand why he'd want to hear it, and he asked if Boyd was trying to punish himself or something.

"No, it ain't that." Boyd rubbed a hand up Raylan's side. "It's more like, I feel like if I know that, it's almost like I was there with you."

"It ain't like that at all, Boyd, and you know it. I'll tell you about it if you want. But I'm not so sure I want to hear about it from your end, if that's okay."

"Of course, Raylan." Boyd turned himself onto his side to face the man, even though he surely couldn't see him well in the dark room.

"I was just out of it for awhile, I guess. Didn't go to class for a week or so, drank a lot. I didn't really know what to do. There weren't many people to talk to about it, you know. That kid Jacob... remember him?"

"Yes..."

"He offered me a sympathy BJ."

Boyd laughed loudly at that, and asked, "Well, did you take it?"

"Hell no."

"Speaking of that, I gotta ask. Did you ever, uh.."

"Decide I wanted to fuck more guys than just you?" Raylan wasn't surprised that he wanted to know, and he grinned. 

"Yeah." Boyd laughed again, sounding almost embarrassed. 

"Winona wanted to know that too. I told her I tried it once, just to see. Really, I tried it for a couple of months, once. I had to be sure. It wasn't that it was bad, they just didn't hold my interest like women do."

"So..."

"Why you? Fuck if I know, Boyd. I fell in love, that's all. I can't explain it." He left the next logical question of why Boyd still had that effect on him unanswered, and it hung there in between them. 

Boyd's hand moved to find Raylan's and grasped it hard for a second, then let up and just held it loosely as they drifted off to sleep. 

 

The next morning, Raylan woke up alone. With a sinking feeling, he looked around to see if there was a note for him. He found nothing, and he got up to get dressed. He'd just pulled on his jeans when the door opened and Boyd came in holding his room key, two coffees and a bag from Dunkin Donuts.

"Thought you'd decided to split without saying goodbye," Raylan said, hoping he wasn't giving away how shitty he'd felt about that.

"I wouldn't do that," Boyd said, and handed him one of the coffees. "I wasn't sure how  
many sugars, so I just brought some." He threw some packets on the table.

"Thanks. I just take it black now. I guess I knew you wouldn't do that. But then you weren't here, so..."

Boyd frowned at him, put his coffee down and walked over. "I wouldn't. I won't ever do that again."

Raylan looked up from his coffee and said, "Boyd, I have to leave today, you know that, right? I got a job waiting for me in Miami. This has been... but we can't..." He stopped talking and looked at Boyd, who was looking back calmly, with a very slight smile on his face. "What? Do you know something I don't?"

"I don't know anything, Raylan, except that I can't just have you back in my life for three days and that's it. How can that be right? In what world does that even begin to make sense?"

"Boyd..." Raylan had no idea what to say to this. He understood it, even felt something like it himself, but it was impossible for so many reasons. "I'm not in a real great place right now. I-"

"You're getting divorced. I know. And I don't care. I mean, I care - I don't want you to be unhappy - but it doesn't change anything for me. You need time, you need space, you can have that. But I ain't going anywhere, Raylan. Now that I know you still want me, I won't be giving up again. It's not too late. Is it?"

"I... I don't really know if it is or it isn't."

"Then it isn't. I'd tell you to trust me, but I know we ain't quite there yet." He had reached out for Raylan before he said this, and now he took the coffee from his hand and set it on the table. He took both of Raylan’s hands in his and pulled him towards the bed. 

Raylan cocked his head and said, “My coffee’s gonna get cold.”

“Well,” Boyd said, flicking his eyes up and down Raylan’s body, “You should have thought of that before you stood around talking to me half naked. Have I mentioned yet how fucking good you look, Raylan? Not that I didn’t like the way you looked before, all long and lean and pretty, but damn, boy. What you been doing?”

“Me? Look at you.” Raylan ran his hand up Boyd’s arm and squeezed his bicep. “You grew up too.”

“And you still want me anyway? I don’t look too much like a man for you now or something?” Boyd was smiling, which was good, because otherwise he wouldn’t have been sure how to take it. 

“Shut up, Boyd. I think you got your answer to that already.”

“I think I got my answer right here,” he said, sliding his hand down to rub Raylan’s cock through his jeans. 

“I want you _right now_ ,” Raylan said, his voice low and rough. 

“Perhaps the engraved invitation hasn’t made it to you yet, Raylan, but don’t stand on ceremony. You want me, all you got to do is take me.”

Raylan’s eyes widened, and he sat down on the bed, pulling Boyd along with him. They both shed their jeans quickly and Raylan reached into the drawer in the bedside table. 

Boyd grinned. “You came prepared.”

“I did. But I don’t think the Boy Scouts would have me, do you?”

“I can’t imagine why not. What red-blooded, American straight boy doesn’t like a little cock now and then? Besides, it's me. Who's gonna hold you responsible for that? It's a well-known fact that I am irresistible." He grunted as Raylan slid a finger in. 

"Is that right? You led very many poor, confused country boys astray over the years?"

"I consider it community service, Raylan." Boyd was breathing harder now, as he closed his eyes and gave himself up to Raylan's hands.

"You're a philanthropist," Raylan said, then bit down lightly on the inside of his thigh.

"Let's just say they ain't so confused when I finish with them," he panted, grinning faintly.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" Raylan worked more of his hand into Boyd, and bent down to take his dick into his mouth. Boyd let out a guttural groan in response. 

“Raylan, I don’t care how long I been in love with you, I don’t take orders from nobody who ain’t willing to kill me to make me obey.” 

In Raylan’s opinion, that was a highly debatable statement. He pulled his mouth off of Boyd, eased his fingers free and looked up at him with a challenging glint in his eyes. “Who says I ain’t?”

Boyd glared down at him and said, “Oh, fuck you.”

“I think I said, ‘shut up.’” 

Boyd chuckled, low and full of something joyful-sounding, and said “Make me.”

Raylan stretched himself out on top of Boyd, letting his whole weight rest on him except where he braced himself at the elbows. He could feel the hard length of him digging into his thigh, and he knew Boyd could feel the same from him. He kissed him, deep and long, then said, “Boyd, either I’m gonna fuck you, or you’re gonna fuck me. Right about now, I really don’t care how it goes. Either way, I’m done with chatting. So let’s get to it, all right?”

Boyd didn’t say a word in answer, just gazed back at Raylan and waited. Raylan kissed him again, real quick, then pushed Boyd’s legs back. “You need more before we go?”

Boyd shook his head slowly, and Raylan gave him an approving grin and nodded once. Boyd kept his eyes glued to Raylan's face as he entered slowly, barely moving once he got there. It had been such a long time, and Raylan had forgotten what it was like. It was different from a woman's pussy, or anyone's mouth, and he hadn't ever done this with anyone but Boyd. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"You okay?" Boyd asked in barely more than a whisper. 

Raylan nodded and opened his eyes. They moved together, and Raylan looked at Boyd's face because there was nowhere else to look. There was nothing else he wanted to look at, anyway, and he didn't know when he'd see him again after today.

He hadn't looked at Boyd at length, since he'd been back, hadn't studied his face or looked for what had changed with age and circumstance. He'd been satisfied with just seeing the familiar in him, what he'd once loved without reservation. Now, he looked.

Boyd's face, always fox-like and singular, was once smooth and almost but not quite pretty, with his tea-colored eyes and full lips. It had thinned out and hardened, had developed lines and creases, and his eyes seemed to be set even deeper than they used to be. 

To his mild surprise, Raylan liked it. Boyd had looked one way in his memory for a long time, but he wouldn't know what to do with that sweet-faced boy these days. The man he was now could only destroy that kid. Boyd had become someone who could handle what he had become, and that was a relief. What either of them might have been if they hadn't been interrupted, he couldn't even begin to imagine.

"You're staring, Raylan." Boyd smiled up at him.

"I am. Is that a problem?"

"Nope."

Raylan kept staring, and moved faster, the sensation familiar, but strange, building higher and higher. He leaned down to kiss Boyd, and after he did, Boyd held onto his head, pushing their foreheads together. When he let go, Raylan pulled up and went harder, pressing a hand into the middle of Boyd’s chest. 

“Not much longer, Boyd. I can’t...”

Boyd reached for himself, keeping his eyes locked with Raylan’s. “That’s good, Raylan. That’s real good,” he panted. 

Raylan couldn’t talk anymore. All of his concentration was focused not coming yet; he wanted to wait for Boyd. He closed his eyes, and that helped for a minute, until he heard Boyd say, “I’m gonna come, Raylan. It’s all for you, ain’t you gonna watch?”

“Oh, fuck.” Raylan opened his eyes to see Boyd’s face slack with pleasure, mouth parted, and eyes still on Raylan. “Fuck. _Fuck._ ” Boyd jerked himself faster, and Raylan saw it happen, watched him come, felt it all through himself, and he pushed in hard, straining against Boyd, groaning loudly, pouring everything into him. 

Afterwards, they lay on the bed, cooling down. Raylan didn't want to get up, didn't want to leave, because he knew what was going to happen. He wasn't so disconnected from his own feelings that he couldn't predict the way this would go. 

Right now, in this moment, he felt almost all in. He was falling in love with Boyd again, and he knew it, though he'd never say it. It hadn't taken much, which made him think it might not have ever gone away completely. 

Once he said goodbye, once he drove out of Kentucky, once he put a few days or weeks in between this interlude and his real life, he'd start to forget what it felt like. He'd start to think of it as an anomaly, which was pretty much the way his mind categorized Boyd himself. He didn't fit.

But that was for later. He had Boyd now, and he wanted him, and he _wanted_ to want him. He reached for Boyd, who immediately rolled over into him, pressing his face into his neck, and they stayed like that for about twenty minutes.

In the end, it was Boyd who pushed him away. "I should get back to Harlan. I know you have to go."

Raylan nodded and said, "Yeah, I do need to get going." He sat up, then turned suddenly and said, "Boyd, listen. If we don't... if this is the end of things for us, I'm still real glad I came here. I missed you for such a long time. I didn't even know how much until I saw you again."

Boyd sighed. "Don't do that, Raylan."

"Boyd, I just-" 

"I know, but don't. Please." Boyd got up and pulled his clothes on. He was frowning, and not looking at Raylan. "Just because you're afraid of it-"

"I'm not. I just know how it's going to feel, for both of us, if we try and it doesn't work."

"Yeah, that's what I meant by afraid. Among other things." Boyd took a donut out of the bag on the table, picked up his keys, and walked over to Raylan. "I'm leaving. You gonna say a proper goodbye, or not?"

Raylan faced him and put an arm around his shoulders. He kissed him once and said, "Goodbye, Boyd. Take care of yourself."

"You do the same. I'll see you, Raylan."


	4. Four

“Fuck, Boyd, I told you I didn’t want to hear about it.” Johnny had an expression on his face like he’d accidentally downed a full glass of curdled milk. 

The bar was completely deserted, it being only 11 am on a Wednesday, and Boyd was nursing a beer. He didn’t want to get drunk, really, he just needed to unload on someone. Johnny might not want to hear it, but he was the only person in Harlan who’d been brave enough to broach the subject while, if not exactly embracing it, being willing to withhold judgement on it. 

“I know, and it’s certainly not that I don’t appreciate your feelings here, cousin, but I don’t exactly have a lot of options. You might remember your spectacular bust up with Debbie Parsons a few years back, when she tried to gut you with your hunting knife the day you kicked her ass out of your house? Now, I clearly remember letting you talk for hours upon fucking hours about that vile cunt, for months before and after you split up with her. I cannot tell you how many times I wanted to tell you to shut the fuck up and quit being such a goddamn pussy, but I never did, did I? No. Because I knew you just needed to talk that shit out. I would greatly appreciate you returning the favor, Johnny, even if it does involve having to possibly envision me and Raylan in some compromising positions. I promise you, I would never, unnecessarily, go into detail about such things, but I understand how the mind works. For instance, I would certainly not tell you about the time -”

“Jesus! Okay, goddamnit, stop.” Johnny had his hand up and his head turned away. “Look here, I hate to say it, but I think he’s right. I don’t really see how you’re gonna work that. He lives in fucking Miami. And if he worked out of Lexington, that’d even be a hundred times worse. Can you imagine that shit storm? I don’t even know where to fucking start - with the fact that he’s a _U.S. motherfucking Marshal_? Or that he’s Arlo Givens’s son? Or hey - you know what, none of that even amounts to a goddamn anthill, Boyd, because there’s no way in hell Bo would ever stand for one of his sons being in a _relationship_ with a man. Now, you and I both know that. He already made that clear a long time ago, with this specific one in mind, I might add.”

“I know that.” Boyd was looking at him steadily. “Choosing Raylan would be a choice against him, there’s no way around it.”

“Well then, you better be goddamn sure you want it that bad. And you better be sure he does too.”

Boyd nodded, then rubbed his forehead. “I think he does, but... what happened back then, it fucked both of us up pretty bad. He thought I left him for something stupid, he believed that shit for twelve years and thought the whole thing was his fault.”

“What the hell did he do?”

“Nothing, really.” Boyd shrugged. “Fucked some girl. I was pissed, but I knew it didn’t mean shit.”

“Some woman cheated on me, I’d probably leave her for it. At the very least.”

“Yeah, well. He ain’t a woman. And anyway, he... We worked it out. I was over it."

Boyd didn't see any point in going into all that with Johnny. He didn't need and wouldn't care to hear the details about Raylan's confusion and insecurities from when he was twenty years old, and certainly not that he'd offered to let Boyd beat him up rather than leave him. That wasn't even close to the man Raylan was now, and Boyd was sure he wouldn't want anyone to know about it. 

"The point is," he said, tapping on the bar, "I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to come back here. My father dragged me back with threats and intimidation, and I was too young and stupid to keep it from happening."

"I still don't see what could possibly be so fucking great about Raylan Givens that you'd have gave up your home and family for him," Johnny said with a grimace. "He always thought he was better'n people around here. Probably thought that about you, least, before he started..." 

Boyd could only assume the next words out of his mouth were meant to be "fucking you," but that Johnny could quite bring himself to say them. He snorted, then looked up at his cousin without trying to hide whatever was on his face.

"It wasn't just what he was. It was what I was with him. I loved him. Love him still."

Johnny looked surprised, though Boyd didn't know how he could have thought it was anything else. "I ain't never thought of you as someone who'd place a great deal of weight on that sentiment." 

"Yes. I realize that. That's exactly what I'm trying to say here, Johnny. That one time, with that one person, I was that way. I chose that path, it was my goddamn decision to make, and it was taken from me.

"So that's it. Bo hurt your pride. You're pissed," Johnny said, sounding almost relieved.

"That's certainly part of it. Don't change any of the rest of it though."

"You know, telling me all this shit ain't exactly the smartest thing you could be doing. I could hurt you with it."

"You could. You might, at that. Don't matter that much, in the end. Comes down to me needing to make up my mind about it, one way or the other. I'm telling you for two reasons. One is, I might need to ask you for help. The other is... I don't really know. I just need to say it out loud to someone. I been bottling this shit up for years. Sorry, Johnny. That's what you get for tolerance."

"I still think its fucking gross."

"I know."

"So let me ask you something." 

Boyd raised his eyes in surprise that Johnny would ask for any information on this topic. "Fire away."

"You really like women, or is that just for show?"

Boyd grinned and said, "I love women. Why?"

"Well..." Johnny hesitated, poured himself a shot. "Then why not just stick with that? Seems like it'd go a lot easier on you."

"Always figured that's what I would do. Just didn't work out that way. Could never find one that measured up to what I had with Raylan. God knows I tried."

"Well what about... Jesus Christ, I can't believe I'm saying this... didn't you never try any other boys?"

"Sure I did. Not around here, though, I ain't stupid. That didn't take either. Which is probably for the best."

Johnny looked at him like he couldn't believe his ears. "So all this time you been...what? Waiting on him to come back? What the fuck, Boyd? You're like a fucking fairy tale princess."

Boyd's gaze sharpened and he leaned forward. "Do you really want your ass beat, Johnny?"

"You know what I'm saying."

"He got married. I wasn't about to show up on their doorstep and force a confrontation. He would have ended up hating my guts." 

"When? Right after you left him? Or was there a few years in there where you were just being chickenshit?"

"Fuck you." Boyd looked away. Johnny wasn't saying anything he hadn't already thought himself, many times.

"Guess you get another chance to decide if you're gonna be a man or not." Boyd looked up at Johnny, confirming his suspicions that the man was indeed laughing at him. 

"This is not a conversation I ever envisioned having with you, cousin. And I'm beginning to question the merits of it." He scowled, but was actually pretty goddamn grateful for it. Even if it ended up screwing him over some day, it was a huge relief just to have someone willing to listen to him and talk to him about it. 

Almost a month passed without seeing or speaking to Raylan. Boyd had taken his phone number, though hadn’t offered his own in return. He had it memorized, and had thought of calling on several occasions, but he wasn’t really the phone talking type, and he had a feeling Raylan wasn’t either. He didn’t want to call until he knew something, had figured something out. 

He moved ahead with his plans for the bank robbery he'd been planning. Raylan or no, he wasn't about to waste all the effort he'd already put into this project. He had good people lined up, and he thought getting a little bit more put by was an excellent idea. 

The day it went down, he felt all the usual things - a tingling excitement in his gut all morning leading up to it, almost sexual in nature. Then an icy calm went all through him as it commenced, and everything went real smooth. 

It was only after, when the money had been divided up and Boyd was left alone, that he suddenly felt violently ill. He put the money in his safe and scrambled to the bathroom. He didn't puke, though it was a close call. All he could think of was what would have happened if he'd been caught, and that was not a line of thinking that he ever indulged in. 

Bo called him that evening and told him he had a job he wanted Boyd on, that he didn't trust anyone else with, and to come by the house later to discuss it. 

Boyd didn't have anything to drink before going over there, despite wanting one desperately. He no longer felt like he could trust himself to let down his guard around his father. More than a couple of drinks, and the anger might not stay contained. It had been locked down so tight for so long, but seeing Raylan, touching him, had shattered whatever protections he’d had on those feelings. They felt as fresh as the day he’d left Missoula. 

"Come on in, son," Bo's booming voice came through the screen door as Boyd came walking up the front steps. He closed his eyes briefly as he opened the door, and became who he needed to be.

“Hello, Daddy.” He stepped into the kitchen and found Bo sitting at the table with a bottle and two glasses set out. Boyd sat down across from him, opened the bottle and poured for both of them.

“Boyd, I believe you know how important this deal I got going is to me. It will bring in a great deal of revenue, and could be the start of something of our very own down that way.”

Boyd nodded and met his father’s eyes. “I do know that, Daddy, yes. How can I be of service to you in this?”

“I need someone to go down to Miami, to make sure this is all going according to my specifications. Them boys haven’t failed me yet, but that don’t mean much. People get greedy, and lazy, with no one there to make sure. That’s just our sinful human nature, son. We all fall prey to it from time to time, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Bo was looking at him mildly, but Boyd had no illusions that he wasn’t taking a shot at him. What he didn’t know was why he’d be doing that all of a sudden. Normally, Bo seemed to go out of his way to avoid any reference to any of that. Even when he had to deal with Arlo, Boyd had noticed that his father never used the man’s surname around him. 

“I suppose that’s the case,” said Boyd, his voice equally calm and neutral. “Was there anything else you wanted to speak to me about? This seems a bit much just for asking me to pay a little visit. Could have just told me on the phone.”

“Perceptive as always, boy.” Bo nodded, and continued, “The fact is, I heard something.”

Boyd’s stomach dropped suddenly, but he kept his expression even. Or at least, he hoped so. “Oh?” he said.

“Indeed. But before I get to that, there’s something you need to be made aware of. Now, I’ve kept this to myself for many years, mostly because I do not care to speak of it, and because I didn’t want you to get any kind of impression that I approve of, or condone this, in any way. However, circumstances have compelled me to bring it up.”

Boyd sat stock still. He didn’t think he could possibly know about Raylan’s visit. This would be going down a lot differently than it was, if so. He wasn’t about to give anything away, so he just looked at Bo attentively and waited. 

“Son,” Bo said, his face souring, “after extricating you from that disgraceful situation you put yourself in, I was pleased with the effort you made to correct yourself. You’ve behaved appropriately, made amends, and shown yourself to be committed to this family.”

“Well, thank you, daddy.” He barely managed to avoid grinding his teeth, but those were some of the hardest words he’d ever had to utter out loud. “I sense there’s some shoe about to drop, and I would greatly appreciate it if you could let me know what it is.”

“Then, Boyd, out of consideration for your busy schedule, I’ll just tell you that I know you been _indulging_ certain proclivities - which I do not, cannot and will not attempt to understand - every goddamn time you leave the state. I’ve know this for quite some time, which should come as no surprise to you, though I can see that it does. You couldn’t have thought I trusted you, could you? That I wouldn’t take care to make sure you were following my orders?”

Boyd could hardly believe he hadn’t thought of it either. Of course, Bo would have had someone monitoring him. He hadn’t done anything like that for a year or so after his tour was over, and he’d allowed himself to think that he’d been convincing enough in his loyalty that Bo would trust him. How foolish he’d been. He waited for Bo to continue, because he surely had no idea how to answer in a way that wouldn’t just make the situation worse. Besides, there was more coming - whatever the big man had recently found out.

Bo went on after a lengthy pause. “Perhaps you’re wondering why I have allowed this to go on without comment or interference. The simple fact is, son, that you are better at what we do than your brother is. I believe that you are the best choice to take over for me when I’m gone, and that you can and will do whatever is necessary to make that happen. You’ve taken care to hide your... activities... from others. Now, make no mistake, Boyd. I find this utterly repulsive. I have, at times, found it difficult to be around you, because I could not contain my disgust for what you do. But I let it go on. I am a man of some experience in the world, and I have come to understand that this particular perversion is not easily shaken. I felt it best to allow you these opportunities, as long as it never led to anything else, particularly if it kept you from the temptation of contacting that little faggot you were debasing yourself with.”

“I never called Raylan, nor looked for him. Surely you must know that, if you been keeping track of me so close.” Boyd was looking at Bo bleakly. He knew this was the time to decide, but he didn’t feel ready.

“I kept close watch on you for a long time, Boyd, but I did eventually ease off. I stopped making it my business to know where that little shit was at any given time, although I did follow his career for awhile. As I’m sure you know, since I know you’ve spoken to Helen Givens on occasion, he is a Federal Marshal.” Bo’s face twisted into a sneer. 

“I had heard that, yes. Makes no difference to me, one way or the other. He ain’t in my life at all, as you are well aware.” The bald-faced lie to his father made him breathless for a second, though of course, he’d made a regular habit of lying to him with his very existence over the last twelve years. 

"I recently heard, purely by coincidence, that he is currently working in Miami. I am only telling you because you have to go down there, and if you had happened to hear the same news, you might have been tempted to get in touch. I am telling you, son, that cannot happen."

"That's ancient history. Raylan Givens doesn't mean anything to me."

"Funny, I recall hearing similar words from you one other time. Next time I saw you it was more than a year later, and you were living with him like you were fucking married. Forgive me if I don't believe so easy this time."

Boyd's anger was so close now, so hot and explosive, and he knew there was no way Bo wasn't seeing it. He licked his lips and drew a breath, then leaned forward and said, very quietly, “I have not spoken about any of this to you, since the day you came and tore me out of a life I was happy in. I had _chosen_ that life. I had taken responsibility for that choice. Since that day, Daddy, I have done everything you’ve asked of me. I did it, in the beginning, to protect Raylan. Because, as I’m sure you figured out, I loved him.” Boyd smiled then, almost cruelly, because he knew what it did to his father to hear those words. “I had loved him for years already by that time. And I have never loved anyone else.”

Boyd stopped speaking for a moment, feeling the need to catch his breath and draw himself back in, because he could feel things slipping off the rails. He wasn’t ready to make a break. He had no idea what would happen if he tried. 

Bo hadn’t said a word, but he looked predictably furious.

“Now,” Boyd continued, “Twelve years have passed since that day. I have not needed to protect him for a very long time. And yet, here I am, still in Harlan. Still in your employ. Still being fucking _discreet_ about my _perversions_. Because - as if I even need to point this out - I have nothing else. This is all I know now. It's the life I've accepted, if not the one I wanted. And Raylan - what do you suppose he'd want with me, anyway? He moved on a long time ago, got married, as I'm certain you know. He might have cared for me once, but I'd be just another Harlan shitkicker to him now."

The words hurt to say, even though he knew they weren't precisely true. They hit close enough to the truth to burn. He thought about what Johnny had said, what it would be like if Raylan were working in Kentucky. 

"So," he said, "It's all on the table now, Daddy. Either you trust me or you don't."

"I haven't trusted you since the night Bowman told me what he saw. You can't trust a man with a secret, son. I taught you that."

"And if I had not made a secret of it?"

Bo laughed humorlessly. "Then I doubt I would have had to take responsibility for the beating you got. You ought to feel grateful - at least I made sure they wouldn't do permanent damage." 

"Oh yes," Boyd said softly. "You did that all on your own." He got up to go. "You can let me know the details of the trip tomorrow. That is, if you still want me to go. Go ahead and think it over."

Bo stood up quickly, and to Boyd, his body language looked dangerous. "Boy, you do not want to walk out on me."

Despite himself, Boyd froze in his tracks. He waited.

"I don't need to think nothing over. You think you're telling me anything new? You'll go to Miami, you'll make sure everything is in order, and you'll by God sample their damn Florida pussy. No fucking field trips this time, you hear me?" 

"I hear you, Daddy. Is there anything else, or may I be excused?" 

"Go on, get the hell out of my sight."

Boyd left, closing the screen door carefully so it wouldn't slam behind him. He got in his truck and started driving north, kept going until he got to the outskirts of Lexington. He stopped at a trashy-looking convenience store, bought a pre-paid cell phone and dialed the number Raylan had given him, which he'd memorized so he wouldn't have to write it down anywhere. 

He held his breath until Raylan picked up, and then realized he didn't know what he wanted to say, and he was wound up so tight from the conversation with Bo, his mind wasn't working at its usual pace. 

After Raylan had said, "Hello" a second time, Boyd managed to get out, "Hey, Raylan."

"Boyd. Hey." His voice sounded wary, and Boyd could hardly stand to hear it.

"Raylan, I really need to talk to you right now."

"Uh... sure, okay. That's fine. What's up?" He sounded distant, as if he were talking to an acquaintance. Boyd felt him slipping away.

"Raylan... I need to see you."

"Well, I can't exactly take time off when I've only been here a month, Boyd."

"No - of course not, I wasn't suggesting that. I'm going to be in the Miami area in a few days. I want to meet you."

"Why are you going to be in Miami?" Raylan's voice was appropriately suspicious, and Boyd knew he couldn't lie to him. 

"My daddy has a deal in the works, he wants me to make sure it's going according to plan."

"So, you're going to be in Miami, where I work as a member of a law enforcement agency, on criminal business for your criminal father, and you think it's a good idea for us to meet."

"Raylan-"

"No, no, Boyd. I think it sounds great. You want to come down to the office first, I can introduce you around? 'Hey everyone, here's my old boyfriend Boyd - oh, did I not tell you I used to be in love with a man? He works for a criminal organization in Harlan, where I'm from, but honestly he's a good guy at heart. We're just gonna go fuck now, see y'all tomorrow.'"

"Raylan... my father knows you're there now. He warned me to stay away from you. I said some things that were very painful for me. I let the lie I'd been living all these years, for his benefit, fall away - and it turned out he never did believe it anyway. He's disgusted by me, always has been, but he knows he owns me. I had to call you. I had to know. Are you telling me you won't try? If that's how it is, please let me know now."

"Boyd, he doesn't own you. You can be your own man, with or without me. You don't have to stay there."

"Are you telling me no?"

"I don't... I don't know. I can't make you any promises." He sounded distressed now, which Boyd thought was a vast improvement over indifference. He was relieved, because now he could understand what Raylan was having trouble with.

"I ain't asking for that. I wouldn't expect it. I only want to know if you'll try. I just need to know if you still want me."

There were a few seconds of silence on the line, and then Raylan's voice came across, soft but clear, and Boyd finally felt like he could breathe again. He said, "Yeah, I want you. That's never the problem, Boyd. I always want you."

"Still?" 

"I told you. Always."

"Oh."

"I'll try. We can... we'll try to figure something out. But I don't know about this trip, Boyd. If you... what exactly did you say to Bo, anyway?"

"I let him know how angry I still am. I couldn't hold it in anymore, Raylan."

"Okay. Don't you think he's gonna have people watching you?"

Boyd ran a hand through his hair and looked out the window of his truck. "Yeah," he said, "I'm sure he will. I can work it."

"I don't doubt that. Is this a safe number to call?"

"Yeah, it's a burner. Don't leave messages though. If you call, I'll call back."

"All right."

"Raylan..."

"When I see you, okay? Talk then."

Boyd tossed all the packaging from the phone, made sure the ringer was off, and put it under the seat. He drove back to Harlan, still feeling like shit, still worried, but better than before. When Raylan had told him he still wanted him - _always_ \- Boyd had hardly known how to respond. 

The first time Raylan said those words to him was one of the most beautiful nights of his life. When they were living together, Raylan used to say it to him sometimes. Boyd had always assumed it meant, "I love you."

For him to say it now was shocking, and Boyd wondered if maybe it hadn't meant that at all. Maybe Raylan had only ever meant exactly that by it, and the love he'd felt was something separate. 

They had both thrown that word around without a second thought. Always. As if anyone could know what that meant at twenty years old. He wondered if it had become a self-fulfilling prophecy; he'd said he would always love Raylan, so he'd never let himself love anyone else. But Raylan had said it too, in the letter he'd sent. That it would never be too late, and that he'd always love him. He wondered if that could possibly be true.

 

When Boyd called, Raylan had been about to leave his apartment to go and meet Winona. She'd called him the week before, saying she was having second thoughts, wanted come down to Miami to talk things through. 

He was angry with her - for cheating, for not making him understand what was happening with their marriage sooner, for leaving him - but he still loved her. At least, he thought he did. That was the belief he'd been holding onto for a long time, and he'd never given it much consideration. 

When she'd called, he had agreed without much difficulty. They'd been married for seven years, and it didn't seem right to just throw it away. She was his wife, and he loved her. He was just angry.

Then, like some kind of lightning bolt, Boyd called. 

The first week after he'd left Kentucky, he'd thought about Boyd almost constantly. But it had been such a short episode, and nothing had really been changed. There had been no promises made. And it made no sense in his life; how could Raylan pursue something with someone like him? How could he upend his life like that? Could he really even consider being in a relationship with any man? That wasn't him. It seemed impossible.

Then his phone rang, and he somehow knew before he even picked it up. He heard Boyd's voice, and at first felt inexplicably afraid. It was the way he'd felt when he'd first realized what Boyd meant to him. But, just as it had back then, the fear faded, and all that was left was the wanting, and maybe some traces of what had gone with it, a warmth and an affection that he associated with no one else.

He could hear the pain in Boyd's voice, and most of all, the need. Boyd needed something from him, and that was a hard thing for Raylan to resist under any circumstances, but he didn't feel like he was in any position to offer it. But then Boyd had asked if he still wanted him, and that was an easy question to answer. He'd never felt any other way about him, when he'd thought of him. 

After he got off the phone, he hurried to get to the restaurant on time. His head was a mess, and full of Boyd at the moment, but that didn't mean he shouldn't see how things were with Winona.

She looked gorgeous, had obviously made an effort, and Raylan could tell right then that if he told her tonight that he wanted her back, she'd come. 

She stood up as he approached the table, they hugged, and he kissed her on the cheek. She smelled fresh and different, with some unfamiliar scent behind her ears.

"Well, you clean up all right," he said, giving her a sideways smile.

"Gee, thanks."

They sat down and a waiter came over to take their drink orders and bring menus. When he'd gone, Winona gave him a bright smile and said, "So! How have things been for you here?"

"They've been all right," he answered. "Little lonely. I don't really know anyone yet."

"So you're not seeing anyone?" She was looking at him nervously.

There was no way he was going to answer that. "Winona, I don't really care to make small talk. Why don't you just say what you want to say? It'll go easier for both of us." 

"I think I may have made a mistake, Raylan. I still love you. I think I gave up too easily on us."

Raylan nodded. "I still love you too, honey." She started to smile and say something, but he held up a hand. "But I don't think you made a mistake. And I don't think you gave up too easily, either. I think you probably hung in there a lot longer than I deserved."

"We were happy in the beginning. We just lost our way. Maybe we can try again."

"I don't think I can do that. I'm sorry."

She frowned at him. "Why? It's exactly what you wanted a month ago."

"It's what I thought I wanted, but I'm not even sure why. I don't much like change. And I do love you. So I guess those were my reasons. But I never did treat you the way I should have, because I never felt exactly as I should have about you, or our marriage. I wasn't prepared to be married. You have to be able to trust the person you marry, and I couldn't do that. Not because of you. Because of me, and the past I could never tell you about."

She stared at him and shook her head slowly. "Tell me now, Raylan. Will you? Whatever happens with us, I really want to know. 

He looked at her, sighed, and started at the beginning, with Arlo and Frances, then Boyd, and Montana, and finally what had happened after she had left him. He glossed over some of the details, but didn't lie about anything, or omit anything important. They ordered food to share, and several more drinks, and by the time he'd finished the story, he felt drained. He'd never told any of this to anyone. 

"That was an incredible story, Raylan. It's so sad. I'm so sorry for you and him."

"Are you? I thought you'd be hurt."

"I'm sad. I miss you. But I care about you. How can I not feel sad that this terrible thing happened to you when you were so young? It obviously had a huge impact on you. What are you going to do?"

"About him? Shit, I have no idea. It seems impossible."

"Would you... would you want to be with him if you could?" She was staring at him with huge eyes.

Raylan shrugged helplessly. "I... I don't... shit." He closed his eyes tight against her reaction and nodded. "I might. I might want to try that." When he opened his eyes, there were tears standing in hers. "I'm sorry, honey. I know it's weird, I-"

"No, Raylan. That's not it. I don't think it's weird. Surprising, maybe. I just... I wish you'd told me about this, because it's something important, about _you._ And not even just because it's a man, but because you loved him. Because you were hurt by the way it ended. Because he was always in between us. He lived in our attic, for God's sake, in that box of moldering old books."

"Yeah. I guess that's true. I didn't know. Not really. I'm sorry."

She reached out and took his hand from where it lay next to his drink. "I know that, baby. That's why I'm not mad, just really sad and sorry about the whole thing."

"I might just be fooling myself anyway. I don't know what we can offer each other. We're not the same as the boys we were then. I think, maybe we were so happy because we just didn't know any better. We didn't know how shitty life could be, yet, and we thought just because we loved each other, everything would work out fine. But we both know now."

"Nobody knows how anything is going to work out. The worst that happens is you try, it falls apart, and you're sad for awhile. That happened to us, but I'm not sorry we tried. I don't regret our life together. Do you?"

"No, of course I don't."

"There must be something special about this guy, huh."

Raylan didn't know how to answer. He looked at her for a second, then looked down. "He always understood me better than anyone. He always knew what was going on with me, I never had to explain it. And I guess... you know I got this thing where I always think I need to protect the people close to me, right? I know I pissed you off with that more than once."

"Uh, yeah. I'm familiar."

"I didn't feel like that with him, ever. He... I guess he was kind of protective of me. No one had ever protected me before. I loved that."

"Oh, Raylan." She looked at him like her heart was breaking, and he met her eyes again. "I wish I could have done that for you. I didn't know you needed it."

"I didn't want it anymore by then. I wouldn't have trusted it if you'd tried."

They finished their food and lingered over drinks, and Winona talked a bit about Gary. It still bothered Raylan to hear about it, but he didn't feel like he could tell her not to talk about it after she'd been so willing to listen to him talk about Boyd. 

He wondered what would have happened if he'd tried to tell her about it early on in their relationship. She'd been brought up pretty conservatively, and he'd seen her attitudes about a lot of things change over the course of their relationship - not through his doing, as he hated and avoided politics of any kind - but just through her experience. He thought it might have been a disaster, but there was no point in making it an argument now.

When they were leaving, Winona said, "Maybe I'll get to meet this mysterious Boyd someday."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, okay? I still gotta worry about whether he's gonna get killed by his daddy just for visiting me. Save your three-way fantasies for later," he said, and winked at her. 

"Raylan! I was thinking no such thing. Is he cute, though? I bet he is. He must be."

Raylan laughed, feeling a little embarrassed. "That's not quite the word for him. He's... striking." 

"Even better." She smiled and kissed him on the side of his mouth. He walked her to her rented car and waited until she drove off, then headed home. 

Boyd called three days later, early on a Tuesday morning. Raylan was driving into work. "Hey, Raylan," he said, "I'm sorry for the short notice, but can you get a little time today?"

"During the day?"

"It's the only time it's safe. At night I gotta pretend to be into the skanky women they keep throwing at me."

"Lovely."

"Sorry."

"I can take a long lunch, I suppose. Want to meet me at eleven-thirty at my apartment? I'll need to leave by one, though."

"Better than nothing. I really want to see you, Raylan." 

"Yeah," he said, then gave him the address. "You're being careful, right? You won't take a chance. If you don't show up, I won't be mad, I'll just assume you couldn't make it happen. Okay?"

"Don't worry. But thanks for worrying." Raylan could hear him grinning. 

Boyd must have been waiting close by, because as soon as Raylan entered his apartment, he heard the buzzer. When Raylan opened the door, he was almost surprised to see Boyd standing there. It was as if he'd half-convinced himself that the whole thing was a fiction he'd concocted in his head.

"Hey, Boyd." He smiled, and Boyd pushed his way in, moving Raylan up against the hallway wall, insistently but not roughly, and kissed him deeply and repeatedly before finally stopping long enough to say, "Hello, Raylan. It's so good to see you."

They were both keenly aware of their time limit, so they moved straight into the bedroom, pulling off clothes as they went. 

Raylan lay back and Boyd crawled on top of him, putting his mouth everywhere he could get it. He wasn't really letting Raylan do much of anything, so he just gave into it and let Boyd do what he wanted. He felt sharp teeth scrape against his hip bone, then a warm mouth on his cock, which was hard and aching by the time he got to it. He gasped, it felt so good.

Boyd plucked one of Raylan's hands from where it lay, loosely grasping at the top sheet, and laid it on the back of his own head. Raylan ran his fingers through Boyd's hair, then pushed his head down - he assumed that was the idea, and Boyd made a sound that seemed approving enough. 

He held him in place and bucked up into his throat, listening for signs of distress. He didn't want to choke him, or get puked on, for that matter. He was doing fine, though, and Raylan was so turned on that he eventually stopped thinking about it. 

He came hard, grunting out a low curse. His fingers were still tangled in Boyd's hair, so he tugged on it, and Boyd let himself be pulled, bracing himself on his arms and hanging over Raylan, lowering himself for a kiss, then straddling his chest, leaning forward onto the headboard. Raylan pulled himself into a half-sitting position, wrapped his hand around Boyd's dick and grabbed his hip with the other, guiding him forward into his mouth. 

Boyd was clearly being careful, not pushing forward too hard or too fast, out of consideration for his lack of practice. It had been a long time for him before seeing Boyd again, but Raylan didn't want it like that. He clamped both hands onto Boyd's hips and dug his fingers in, jerking him forward roughly and rubbing him with the flat of his tongue. 

Boyd cautiously pulled back and thrust forward, almost like he was asking a question. Raylan let go of Boyd altogether and spread his arms out wide, grasping the bars of the headboard as if he were tied up. Boyd grinned and let go - not entirely, Raylan was quite sure, and he was grateful for that. 

He came, groaning, before too long, his last push knocking Raylan's head against the bed. After Boyd pulled out of his mouth, he put his hand over the spot and said, "Sorry. Got carried away."

Raylan huffed a soft laugh and put his hands on Boyd's waist to pull him down next to himself. "That's what you were supposed to do, Boyd."

Boyd just looked at him for a second, then smiled and tucked himself in against his side. "I know we only got a little time before we have to go. You mind if we just stay here?"

"Where else would we go?"

"I needed this. I'm so glad you-"

"You don't have to... thank me, or ask, or whatever. I don't want that, it's not like you. You used to tell me what we should do. You were almost always right."

Boyd raised his head up and looked at Raylan in surprise. "You want me to be that way with you? I didn't think you'd let me, not yet anyway."

"I probably won't. But I don't think you should let that stand in your way. It's you I want, not some shadow of you. I said I'd try, I meant that, and I'm not doing it as a goddamn favor."

Boyd didn't answer, and Raylan could hear him breathing, felt him tracing lines with his fingers up and down his ribs. 

Raylan slid his arm under Boyd's neck and pulled him even closer. "Winona was here a few days ago. In Miami, I mean, not actually here, in the apartment. We had dinner."

"Oh?" Raylan couldn't detect anything in his voice - if he felt threatened or jealous, it didn't show.

"She asked about you again. So I told her everything. All the stuff from back then, and now."

"Shit," he breathed. "What the hell did she say?"

"Actually... she was sweet about it. She said it was sad and that she was sorry for us. And she asked if I would want to be with you, if I could."

"What did you tell her, Raylan?" Boyd's voice was soft, and Raylan could feel that he'd tensed up just a bit.

"I said I did. I do. But I just don't know, Boyd. We can't go back. It can never be simple like that again. I hate to think of being with you, but wishing for some other time and place. That just seems like the saddest fucking thing in the world, don't it?"

"It don't sound as sad as _not_ being with you and wishing for that." Boyd propped himself up on an elbow and looked down into Raylan's face. "We'd be gone from there by now anyway, Raylan. I've thought a lot about where we might be, or what we might be, if I'd never left. That's what I wish for mostly. That we'd finished our growing up together. I think we were good for each other."

Raylan was quiet, thinking about that. Boyd had been good for him, that was probably true. He didn't know how good he'd been for Boyd, but surely there had been value in being forced away from Harlan, in having to figure out some other way to live. It was awful to think he'd had to go back there just to keep him safe. 

"Boyd, do you have a plan?" 

"I have some contingency measures in reserve," he answered.

"If Bo's already suspicious, you're on borrowed time. You need to-"

"Raylan," Boyd said flatly, "I know what the danger is, better than you. And I understand that it makes you uncomfortable, me putting myself in that position based on nothing but your assurance that I still make your dick hard. I get it. Believe me, I'd like nothing more than for us to take our time and date casually while we get to know each other again, but we both know that's not possible for us. So this decision has to be mine, and not dependent on you. I can't say it ain't connected to what was, and is, between us. But the fact is, you were right. He doesn't own me, and I don't have to act like he does. Or, not for much longer anyhow. I'll work it out. But Raylan?"

"Yeah."

"I don't want to talk about this now. I just want to touch you a little more before I have to go, so I can store it up to last me until next time."

"You ain't asking permission, are you?"

Boyd grinned and rolled over onto him. "Here's what I think you should do. Shut up and let me take care of it."

Raylan grinned up at him and said, "Now you're talkin'."

 

Boyd didn't manage another visit during the time he was in Florida, which Raylan was mostly relieved about. He understand why he'd risked it, and seeing him had been a good thing, and important at that particular time, if they were actually going to try to make something happen. But it was way too stressful and dangerous, and he didn't think they should press their luck.

The day that Raylan knew Boyd was heading back - two days after he’d last seen him - he got a call from Helen just as he was getting back from lunch. He briefly wondered if she was calling to tell him Arlo was dead, shrugged, and picked up the phone. 

"Hey, Helen. What's up?"

Her voice came over the line, strained and urgent. "Raylan, is Boyd Crowder with you?" How she even knew Boyd was in Florida was beyond him, but he'd learned not to ask these questions.

"Wh... No. Boyd ain't here. Why?"

"I don't know what you boys are thinking, but it obviously ain't with the right heads. Do you know how to get in touch with him?"

"Helen... yeah, I do, but what is going on?" He was frowning hard, and a terrible feeling was churning in his gut. 

"You should tell him to stay there. Just not to come back."

"I can't. Far as I know, he was flying out this morning. I'll call him, but you gotta tell me what happened right now." 

"Maggie Bennett called me to find out if you'd been in Harlan. Seems Dickie come home cackling to her about something he heard down at Audrey's. Some boy was shitfaced and spreading it around about some guy he didn't know, showing up at Boyd's place when he was out there last month. Said he didn't think nothing of it until he heard some old gossip about him."

Raylan had been walking through the hallway toward the office, and he stopped in his tracks. "Shit."

"That ain't even close to the worst of it. Bowman Crowder was there, and Dickie said he got up and walked outta there halfway through the story."

"Oh, God. All right, th-"

"Raylan, wait a second. Has Boyd been to see you since he's been down there?"

Everything went very still. "Yeah," he said, his voice sounding weak to his ears.

"This thing with Dickie happened four days ago." Helen sounded scared. "Raylan, things didn't fall apart in Montana, did they? That was Bo, wasn't it?"

"I didn't know until a month ago. He didn't tell me, because..."

"Because he didn't want you coming back here and getting yourself killed. I know. He made a sacrifice for you, boy. You owe him a debt."

"I know. I can pay it."

She sighed and said, "Get to it, then."

 

Raylan called Boyd's phone and it just rang. He hung up and waited to hear back from him. He tried again just before leaving work, and still got no answer. He had a very bad feeling about this, but he didn't know what he should do.

Boyd had told him about his conversations with his cousin, how surprised he'd been with the man's reaction, and Raylan thought it was possible he might be able to help, if Johnny were willing to deal with him. He didn't hate Boyd, but then, he'd known him his whole life. They were friends. Johnny had never been Raylan's biggest fan. 

He waited until almost eight o'clock, tried Boyd's phone again and got no answer. He called information for the number to Johnny's bar, dialed and let it ring at least ten times before someone picked up. Raylan could hear music and shouting in the background. 

"I'm looking for Johnny Crowder," he said, when a young woman answered the phone. "Is he there?"

"I'll check. Who's this?"

"Sheriff's office." 

She put the phone down, and Johnny was on the line less than a minute later. "Mosely? What the hell do you want?"

"I ain't Hunter fucking Mosely, that's for goddamn sure. Johnny?"

"This is Johnny Crowder. Who the fuck is this?"

"It's Raylan Givens. I'm sure you're not overly excited to hear from me, but-"

"Jesus Christ. Lemme put you on hold, I'll take this in the office."

Johnny picked up a minute later, and said, "What the fuck, Givens? You couldn't just leave well enough the hell alone, you had to come back here and cause trouble?"

"All I did was-"

"All you did was expose Boyd, get back inside his head, and disrupt the life he was living here."

A hot spike of anger went through Raylan at those words, and he spoke to Johnny in a low voice full of rage. "Oh, I disrupted his life, did I? His happy, fulfilled life he was living with someone who cared about him? The one where he was planning to go to school and do something with his brilliant fucking mind other than plan robberies and run a drug empire? Because, I think you got me mixed up with someone else."

"No, you arrogant asshole. The one where he was getting by, making the best of things, and not currently facing God knows what retaliation from his father for being a goddamn fag and for going to see the one person in the world that was expressly off limits to him."

"Shit," Raylan spat. 

"Yeah, shit. Boyd's in a world of it right now, because of you. What are you gonna do about it?"

Raylan was shocked into silence for a moment - he wouldn’t have expected Johnny to even ask, or want him to come anywhere near this. It didn’t bode well for Boyd. He thought for a moment. "Is he back in Harlan yet?"

"Not as far as I know. But Bo don't necessarily keep me in the loop. I only know about this shit from Bowman, but I don't know what the big man is planning. I can't do nothing for him, he's on his own."

"Look... I'm gonna figure something out. I can't do it blind though, Johnny, I need your help."

"Why the fuck would I want to do that? This is Boyd's own fault, and yours. Fucking idiots, both of you."

"Yeah, I guess we were, kinda. Ain't most people, when they're nineteen? We were stupid, we thought we could just go make our own fucking choices and people would leave us the fuck alone, even if they hated it. We got schooled on that score, I guess."

"I'm talking about now, dipshit."

"There ain't no now without back then. Bo thought he could just steal something from us and not expect either of us to ever try to take it back. Now, he's the one raised that boy, so he should've goddamn well known better." 

Johnny expelled a harsh breath, then said, "I'll call if I find out anything. Are you heading this way?"

Raylan thought for about a second. “I don’t want to go anywhere until I know what the hell is happening. We don’t even know if he’s left Miami."

He gave Johnny his number, and the one Boyd had been using, just in case. He didn't know if he could really trust the man, but it was an open game now, anyway.

 

As soon as Boyd left Raylan's place, before he even got in the rental car, he felt the tail on him. He was sure it hadn’t been there before; he’d been extremely careful. He had checked things out when he'd gotten to Raylan's too, and it seemed to be clear. He started driving, clearing his mind of everything except the essentials. 

If his father hadn't known before that he was in contact with Raylan, he certainly did now. He wasted no time on his anger that this should be such a grave offense, and just thought about what needed to be done. 

He had an idea, but it depended on several things going his way. Boyd had always hated plans like that, and generally only acted on them when he was able to control every angle. There was no time for that now. 

He was also bound in another way - he couldn't kill anyone, and in fact, breaking the law at all was dangerous. Anything he did here in Miami could potentially come back on Raylan, ruin his career and trample the green shoots of this new thing between them. 

Boyd pulled the disposable phone out from where he'd stuck it under the seat, put it under his boot heel and crushed it. He could call Raylan when this whole thing was over.


	5. Five

Raylan felt like he was spinning his wheels all evening, and when he hadn’t heard from anyone by ten o’clock the next morning, he called Johnny Crowder again. 

“Goddamn it, Givens. I told you I’d call if I heard anything.” He sounded irritated, but not particularly angry, so Raylan decided to push his luck a little.

“Well, maybe you need to do a little fact-finding, Johnny.”

“I ain’t the law enforcement officer here, am I? No, that’s you. You’re the cop, not to mention   
his goddamn long lost love. Which, by the way, is just fucking ridiculous.”

“Look here. I got nothing. I just need a little bit to go on, just a push. Come on, you must know something.”

Johnny heaved a pissed-off sigh and said, "If he wanted you privy to his daddy's business, he woulda already told you. Look, I don’t know you. I ain't seen you since you were a kid, and now you're a damn Fed. Why the fuck would I trust you at all? For all I know you came looking for Boyd so you could get close to Bo. Maybe you saw his name come across your desk and said, hell, I used to fuck around with this shitkicker, I bet he'd be all too happy to see my pretty face."

"Aw, you think I'm pretty, Johnny? You never said."

"Fuck. You."

"You know goddamn well none of that is true. And you know we didn't just fuck around. We lived together for a year. He left Harlan because I needed him, and he came back to that shithole for me too. You think that doesn't buy him a little loyalty, just for starters?

Johnny didn't answer right away, but he didn't hang up, so Raylan waited patiently. Finally, his discomfort clearly apparent, Johnny said, "All I can tell you is that Bo has connections to a very major player in Miami. _Very_ major, you know what I'm saying? You ought to know what sells around here these days, and it ain't anything the Bennetts are growing."

"All right."

"I swear to fucking God, if my name comes up in this anywhere, I will-"

"Watch it. You don't really want to threaten a Federal Marshal, do you?"

Johnny made a derisive noise and said, "Shit. You're just a Harlan boy to me. And this is Harlan."

"Jesus Christ," Raylan sighed. "I forgot about how you people don't believe you're living in the United States half the damn time."

"Just go fucking find your boyfriend, okay?"

"He ain't my... we're just...or, well... shit." Raylan sighed. 

"Christ, Givens, you're an asshole."

"Yeah, yeah. If you hear anything, you'll call me."

"Yep."

 

Boyd spotted the tail for sure after he'd been driving for about five minutes, and headed straight back to the hotel. If the plan was to move on him right away, there was nothing he could do about it; he'd just have to take his chances with the big man.


End file.
